


Voyagers

by VonVarleys



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depressed Marianne von Edmund, Depression, F/M, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Institutions, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Guilt, Schizoaffective Disorder, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, other characters to be added - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:14:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 59,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VonVarleys/pseuds/VonVarleys
Summary: Leicester State University student Marianne von Edmund makes a plan to end her life. Things don't go accordingly.Loosely based on my own experiences being hospitalized, with some added Dimarianne. Updates on Fridays
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Marianne von Edmund
Comments: 42
Kudos: 111





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story has romance in it, but it is not a romance story. It's a story about building a future worth living for, and a story about realizing that you are not as alone as you think. It's a story about the ways in which society fails people who are suffering, and the ways that these failures can be overcome. There's nothing romantic about suicide or psych wards or trauma or psychosis, but even at our darkest points of our voyage, we don't journey alone.

Marianne von Edmund had been waiting for this day for two months. Or possibly for her entire life. She hadn’t been able to get to sleep the night before, but she still woke up early, before her alarm. She lay, tangled in her comforter, waiting for the familiar beeping from her phone, savoring the warmth of her blankets. She had just woken up, but her heart was already racing. Eventually, Marianne reached over and turned off her alarm. This would be a leisurely morning. After all, it was her last one on earth. _Goddess, my soul is yours to take_.

Her roommate, Hilda, had arranged her schedule so that she wouldn’t have a single class before noon, so Marianne was alone when she finally finished her prayers and walked into the apartment kitchen to make tea. She ate a granola bar while watching the water bubble up, still in her pajamas, and regretted that she would leave behind unused tea. She had tried to use all her tea leaves since she’d decided she was going to die that day, but there had been too many, even with her drinking more tea than usual. She wondered if Hilda would want them or if they’d be taken back to her adoptive father’s house when he sent someone for her things.

On Thursdays, Marianne had only her Victorian lit class from ten to noon, which was why she’d made the appointment for two thirty on a Thursday, back in January, two months out from the soonest available date. She would have plenty of time to get from the apartment to the Garreg Mach Medical Center after lunch. She would eat in one of the cafés on campus, she decided, just because. That way she’d just be able to come back to drop off her things and hurry out to the GMMC. Then when she got back from the appointment, she would finally end her cursed life.

Before leaving for her class, Marianne set everything up in her room. It would all be ready for her when she got home that evening. She felt none of the expected sense of relief, no joy in making her arrangements. _Goddess, give me strength._


	2. Columbia Suicide Severity Rating Scale

The counselor at the Leicester State University counseling office had recommended the Garreg Mach Medical Center for its psychiatrists. “They can get you into a group that’s better suited to your needs,” she had said, pulling Marianne aside after the first session of the Student Stress Solutions Group on campus. Being asked to find a different group was what Marianne had expected. Her presence would only have brought misfortune anyway. And yet, here she was, speaking to a psychiatrist about possibly joining another group, even though she didn’t intend to go through with that plan. It was only what she had been advised to do, and she hadn’t wanted to miss the appointment once she’d made it. She looked down at her shoes to avoid the glare from the afternoon sun through the window as she listened to her new psychiatrist speak. 

“To tell you the truth, I’m a bit concerned, Marianne,” Dr. Casagranda was saying, “Going back to what we discussed earlier about you feeling like a burden, I’m going to ask you a few more questions.” She flipped over a few sheets of paper on her clipboard to find the one she was looking for. “Now, have you thought about being dead or what it would be like to be dead? About going to sleep and not waking up?”

Marianne kept her gaze on her lap. “Yes, yes I have.”

“About being dead or about going to sleep and not waking up?”

_ Goddess give me strength _ . “About being dead.” 

“Alright.” Dr. Casagranda scribbled something on her clipboard. “Have you had thoughts about doing something to make yourself not alive anymore?”

What a strange way of saying it. “Yes,” answered Marianne. She wanted to look up, to see what Dr. Casagranda’s face would tell her, but she was too afraid of what she might see.  _ Goddess give me strength _ .

The sound of the pen scratching at paper came again. “Thank you. Have you thought about how you would do that? About how you would kill yourself?” Her voice sounded so calm. 

Marianne glanced up, then quickly looked away. “Yes.” She didn’t say anything more. It was petrifying. 

There was a short pause. “What did you think about?”

_ Goddess give me strength _ . “I tied a noose over my closet door this morning.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she felt lightheaded. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” It was too late.  _ Goddess forgive me _ .

“You actually tied up a noose? For hanging yourself?” Dr. Casagranda. Her tone was calm, but something in it suggested Marianne had deviated from the script. 

Marianne tried to look up, but her neck felt tight and her head was spinning.  _ I should never have spoken _ . “Yes. To hang myself.” 

“Alright.” This time there were no pen scratching sounds. “Thank you very much for telling me this. Have you tried to use the noose?”  
“No,” answered Marianne quietly. 

“Did you think better of it and take the noose down?” asked Dr. Casagranda. 

“No,” Marianne said again.  _ Please, Goddess, let her not force me to say it. _

“So the noose is still up in your closet?” This time, Dr. Casagandra sounded genuinely curious.

Marianne nodded. “Um, yes. For when I get home.”

“I just want to make sure I understand you,” Dr. Casagranda calm tone returned. “Do you plan to kill yourself when you go home today?” 

_ Goddess give me strength _ . Marianne wrenched her gaze upwards, to look at Dr. Casagranda. Her face looked serious but placid. Marianne wondered briefly if she had ever been an actress. “Yes.” 

“Thank you for letting me know. I have a few more questions for you, and then we’re going to discuss safety. Just to be sure, when you thought about killing yourself or making yourself not alive anymore, was this something you thought you might actually do?”

The thought “ _ what did I just say?” _ quickly bubbled up inside Marianne, but she said nothing.  _ Forgive me this transgression, Goddess _ . “Yes,” she answered, looking back down.

“Thank you. Have you decided how or when you would kill yourself? Have you worked out the details of how you would do it?”

Marianne breathed in deeply. “Yes.” 

“Is this plan the same as the one you mentioned earlier, about hanging yourself?”

Keeping her eyes on her skirt and her tone measured, Marianne answered. “Yes.”

Pen scratching sounds again. “Have you actually done anything to end your life?” asked Dr. Casagranda.

Marianne shook her head. “Not yet. Sorry.”  _ Why are you apologizing for that? _

“Ok, thank you.” Dr. Casagranda set her clipboard on her desk beside the computer. “So, I think we need to talk about how you’re going to keep yourself safe. Do you think you would be willing to fill out a safety plan with me?”

Marianne paused a moment to collect her thoughts before responding. She looked up to meet the psychiatrist’s eyes. “Dr. Casagranda, I’m sorry, but, well, I don’t think you quite understand what I want. I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to continue living because me being there will only make people miserable, and if I’m never going to be a worthwhile person, and I’m never going to feel any better, I want to return my soul to the Goddess. So please, give me either the freedom to do that or hope that I might someday have a reason to live.” 

Dr. Casagranda breathed in. “If that’s how you feel, I don’t think I can let you go home. What would you think of staying in the hospital for just a few days, just until you feel more safe with yourself?”

Something dropped inside of Marianne’s stomach. Of course. Of course Dr. Casagranda would say this. And knowing how she would respond, Marianne had said her piece anyway. She could have simply lied, and she would have been free to go home and die. _So what would I really think of staying in the hospital?_ _Goddess give me guidance_. “I don’t know,” Marianne answered. “I can’t skip class.” 

“I think it would be more like taking a few sick days,” said Dr. Casagranda. “Besides, you can’t go to class if you’re dead, and I’m sure your professors would rather have you alive. Knowing that you have a definite plan to kill yourself, I don’t feel comfortable letting you go home. I can call emergency services for you to take you through the ER, or I can call the director of the Garreg Mach psychiatric unit to see if they have an empty bed, and you can go on your own. It’s in Building C, so it wouldn’t be a long walk.” 

“How long would I have to stay?” asked Marianne after a moment’s thought.

“Well, if you refuse to participate at all in the safety planning process, they can hold you for up to 72 hours. If I put in a referral to the director of our unit here, you can check yourself out at any point, though they may send you directly back to the ER for a hold if they don’t think you can be safe. Would you be comfortable with me calling Dr. Foster in Building C for you now?”  
The alternative was unspoken but clear. If Marianne said “no” now, she would be forced to go regardless, and would be forced to stay for three days. If she said “yes,” she would be able to decide when she got to go home. There was no third option, at least not as far as she could see. “That would be fine, thank you.” _Goddess, help me_.

It wasn’t fine. Marianne felt like her insides were falling out. She felt like putting her head in her hands and crying. She felt like passing out. There was none of the sense of purpose or clarity she had felt that morning, tying up the noose in her closet. She stared down at the carpet, at its swirls of blue, grey, and brown fibers as Dr. Casagranda greeted the person on the other end of the phone line. What Marianne felt now was shame, uncertainty, and a deep hatred for the word “safe.” 


	3. Intake

As Dr. Casagranda had promised, the walk from Building FF to Building C was not long, and Building C, being the main hospital building at GMMC, was quite easy to find. There was no chance of running off home to die now; the Dr.s Casagranda and Foster, the director of the psych unit, had made it clear to her that if she were to fail to arrive by 4:30, i.e. in half an hour, police would be called to her home. A wellness check, they had called it, but Marianne knew what that meant. She’d read news articles about those and they always seemed to end badly.

As she walked, she pulled out her phone. She had been warned that she would have to turn it in when she arrived, and she had been given the time to write down the three phone numbers she would have to call for certain on a piece of notepaper before she left Dr. Casagranda's office. In her pocket was a folded sheet of paper containing the numbers of the Leicester State student services office, her adoptive father, and her roommate, Hilda. She knew she’d be able to call the student services office from the hospital within the next day, and there was very little she wanted to do less than call Margrave Edmund. Instead, Marianne used this last, precious half hour with her phone to text Hilda. “Hi Hilda, I’m so sorry to bother you about this, but I’m being hospitalized at Garreg Mach. I’ll be in Building C, if you feel like bringing me my clothes or shampoo or textbooks or anything. I’m sorry I haven’t done my dishes yet. I’ll try to be back in about three days.” 

To her surprise, the three dots showing that Hilda was typing immediately appeared on the screen. “Oh my goddess Marianne what the fuck are you ok?” followed immediately by “What the fuck don’t worry about the dishes” and “Where are you right now I’m coming.” 

Marianne reflected that she hadn’t told Hilda about her appointment at all and hadn’t said anything when she left the apartment. For all Hilda knew, Marianne could have been hit by a train. “Don’t worry about me, please.” She had no idea how to continue. It was hard to think while walking, but she had to keep moving.  _ Goddess give me the words _ . “I just have to spend a couple of days in the psychiatric ward. You don’t have to come today. You can probably find the visiting hours online. Thank you so much for being so kind.” 

The three dots appeared again. “Ok thanks for letting me know” “Take care of yourself and do what you think is right.” “I’ll check the visiting hours right now.”

Marianne began to cross the field of parking lot in front of the main hospital building, Building C. She texted Hilda back, “Thank you. They won’t let me keep my phone, so I’ll have to call you from the hospital phone later.”

“What the fuck that sucks!” “I just checked there’s visiting hours tonight from 5:30 to 7 see you in an hour!” Hilda answered.

Marriane reached the double doors of the hospital’s main entrance. “Thank you. I have to go, I’ll see you soon.” She slipped the phone into her pocket.

Just inside the doors was a small room with glass walls. In one corner there was a desk, the kind one might see at a hotel, with a man sitting at it. “Visiting or checking in?” he asked when he saw Marianne. 

“Um, checking in. Where do I go to...do that?” she asked.

“Just through those doors and to your left. Those are the reception desks.” He turned towards an older woman who had just entered through the doors. “Visiting or checking in?”

Marianne hurried through the next set of sliding double doors. Scanning the room, she quickly located the reception desks and found herself a place behind the sign reminding patients to “wait here for privacy.” 

One of the receptionists noticed Marianne. “Come on up,” she called.

Marianne walked up to the desk and stood awkwardly to the left of the chair. “I’m sorry, but Dr. Casagranda said she called earlier to refer me?”

“Can you tell me your name and what department you were referred to?” the receptionist asked.

“Um, my name is Marianne von Edmund, and she said it was for the psychiatric unit,” Marianne said. 

The receptionist began typing into the computer. “Thank you. And what’s your date of birth?”

“November 23rd, 1996.”

“Alright. I found your referring documents. I’ll give a call over to psych to let them know you’re here. In the meantime, I have some papers for you to sign. Oh, and feel free to sit down.”

Marianne took a seat.  _ Goddess forgive me this transgression _ . “Thank you very much.” She picked up the pen and clipboard being handed to her. A form absolving the hospital of any legal wrongdoing. Marianne signed. A form explaining HIPAA. Marianne signed. A form explaining the internal grievance policy. Marianne signed. A form requesting the release of information to her insurance company. Marianne wrote the name of her insurers and signed. 

“Ok, they’re ready for you, Marianne. I’ll walk you right up when you’re finished with the papers.” The receptionist got up from her seat and made to walk around the desk.

“Um, do you think my insurance will cover me being here? I didn’t, um…” Marianne trailed off, unsure of what she meant to say.  _ I’m not bad enough. I don’t deserve this. Nobody should be making such a fuss over me _ . 

“We can’t guarantee anything, but if you were referred directly by a psychiatrist, they probably thought it could be authorized. The ROI is so we can tell your insurance company about circumstances around your admission so they know it’s valid,” said the receptionist. She turned to her printer as it churned out a small label. She then grabbed a plastic strip from a basket on her desk and affixed the label to it. “Here’s your wristband. Put it on, and I’ll walk you up to the unit; it’s just upstairs.”

Marianne looked down at the wrist band. Carefully, she wrapped it around her wrist and fastened it. On it was her name, her date of birth, and a barcode. She followed behind the receptionist down a carpeted hall and into an elevator. The receptionist pressed the button for the second floor, and Marianne waited awkwardly, looking down at her shoes. She wondered how Hilda would know which textbooks to bring her. She wondered if she would be the least troubled person there, if everyone else would be so much worse off than her that they all wished she would just leave. She wondered if every other person in the hospital knew that she was the source of their afflictions, if people would die because she had set foot into the building, bringing her curse along with her. She wondered how obvious it was, and she wanted to hide.  _ Goddess forgive me _ .

They walked down another carpeted hall, past windows looking out on a courtyard, to a pair of double doors in a thick wooden frame. Above them was a sign reading “Behavioral Health.” The receptionist swiped her name tag through a scanner beside the doors and they swung open, revealing another, smaller atrium, with an empty reception desk and a few clusters of armchairs. 

“Alright, we’re here.” She pressed a button on a box under the scanner. “Hello, it’s Amy. I’m here with a new admit. Thank you.”

Amy the receptionist led Marianne into the next room. “Take a seat. They’ll want to take your vitals before you come in. Did you bring anything with you in your pockets? They’re going to want you to take it out.”

Wordlessly, Marianne removed her phone, wallet, and keys from her coat pocket and sat down in a chair. 

A door on the far side of the room opened and a woman in scrubs entered, pushing a cart containing a heart rate monitor as well as several connected wires and boxes. “Hello, you’re Marianne, right? I’m Irene, one of the CNAs here in behavioral health. I’m just going to take a few measurements and then we can be right along with getting you settled!” As she spoke, Irene opened a box on the side of the cart and pulled out a thermometer. She applied a cover, and turned back to Marianne. “Now, would you let me take your temperature?”

Amy turned to go. “Bye, have a good evening, Marianne. It was nice meeting you.”

Marianne looked up at her. “Thank you. It was, um, nice meeting you too.” She turned back to Irene and opened her mouth, and Irene placed the thermometer inside. 

“Great, thank you,” Irene said. She began to unwind the wiring attached to a blood pressure cuff. “Ok, now would you mind rolling up your sleeve?”

Marianne froze. She didn’t want to roll up her sleeves, not at all.  _ They’re probably used to this. This is a mental hospital. They probably see this all the time, _ she told herself, but her gut didn’t believe it. “Would it be ok if I just took off my jacket?” 

“If your sleeves are too tight, that’ll probably be fine. Just so long as the cloth isn’t too thick, you know,” answered Irene. 

“Thank you,” said Marianne, and removed her jacket. She extended her arm, thankfully still in the sleeve of her blouse. 

Irene fixed the cuff to Marianne’s arm and clipped an oximeter to her finger. After a moment passed, the cuff loosened, and Irene removed them both. “Your vitals are normal. Let’s get you inside and we can get you settled!” 

Marianne stood up, her phone, keys, wallet, and jacket in her arms, and walked behind Irene through the door into the Garreg Mach psychiatric ward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got this fic written through chapter 14 already, so I'll be posting a chapter a day for now. Things pick up more at about chapter 4 so yeah.


	4. New

At the nurses’ station, they took Marianne’s phone. They also took her wallet, and her keys, though they gave her back the paper with phone numbers on it. They took her coat and searched its pockets and made her turn the pockets on her skirt inside out. They also asked Marianne to remove the bobby pins from her hair and confiscated them, leaving her braids disheveled and dangling. All of these things were taken through a door behind the desk, and Marianne was assured they would be put into a locker for safe keeping. They let Marianne keep her shoes though-- ballet flats without any laces and not heavy enough to injure somebody if thrown. 

The nurses’ station was in a large room with two hallways branching off from each side. On either side of it were clusters of armchairs arranged around coffee tables. In one of the chairs, there sat a young, bearded man reading a book. It was embarrassing to have her things taken in front of him, embarrassing to have to take down her hair, embarrassing to stand at the nurses’ station brand new, but she said nothing, and he never looked up from what he was reading. Even so, she felt naked with her hair down, and uneasy without her things. 

Next, Marianne was led by Irene down the hall to the left, past a large room with windows looking out into the hallway in which people sat around tables while a man wrote on a whiteboard, and into another hallway that curved around a similar space to the nurses’ station, with an empty reception desk and clusters of armchairs framed by bookshelves. In one of the armchairs, with papers spread out on the small wooden table in front of him, was a man wearing a button down shirt and glasses. 

They came to a stop in front of his cluster of chairs. “Hi Tom. Marianne is here,” said Irene. 

The man, Tom, looked up. “Hello, Marianne,” he said. “Take a seat, we’re going to be working together here, so I’d like to take some time to get to know you.” 

Marianne sat down, and her gaze drifted to the forms on the table.  _ More paperwork _ .

Tom must have noticed, because he smiled back at her and said “Don’t worry, these are for me. I’ll just be asking you some of these questions and writing down your answers.” He began to pick up the papers, and attached some of them to a clipboard on his lap. He handed one sheet to Marianne, however. “Here’s your dinner menu and your menu for tomorrow. You can fill it out now, so we know what to bring you.” 

Marianne scanned the options, and checked off the box next to the caesar salad. She filled out the menu for the next day too. She handed the papers back to Tom, who passed it to Irene. Irene waved a quick goodbye and left Marianne and Tom alone. 

“So, Marianne, would you mind telling me a little bit about what’s been going on with you lately?” Tom asked, once Irene had left. 

_ Goddess give me strength _ . “Um, it’s been a strange day. I was going to see Dr. Casagranda, to see if she could give me any advice on how to proceed, how to get better at making friends with people and feeling less gloomy, after I got kicked out of the group at my school’s counselling center. But if that didn’t work, I was, um,” Marianne thought about how to say it. “I was going to go to the Goddess.”

Tom nodded. “You were going to kill yourself,” he said. It wasn’t a question, and Marianne was relieved. “What was behind that decision?”

“Um, a lot of stuff,” Marianne said. 

“But it was a plan, not just something you thought of doing in the moment, right?” Tom asked. 

Marianne sighed. “No, I’ve wanted to die for a long time. I decided that in the new year, I’d try to change things, to smile more and to try talking to people, to stop being such a burden to others. But nothing I tried seemed to work. So I decided to kill myself, but I had already made the appointment with Dr. Casagranda, so I went anyway, just in case there was something she could do.” 

“I see,” said Tom. “Why did you tell her about your plan?”

“Because she asked,” answered Marianne. 

“Was there some part of you that wanted to live?”

Marianne paused. “I don’t know. Maybe.”  
“Well, I think there might be. Because you told Dr. Casagranda what you were planning, because you asked for help. During your stay here, we’ll be trying to get in touch with that part of you, so you can be certain that you want to live. Now, I have a few sets of questions to ask you, if you don’t mind.”

Marianne nodded. Her own questions could wait. Redoing her hair could wait. She wondered if Hilda would arrive that night, if she’d be allowed to meet with her. Even wanting and wondering felt like a transgression.  _ Goddess forgive me _ .

* * *

By the time the questioning ended, the clock on the wall behind Tom had reached 6:00. A few of the people had left the room Marianne had passed earlier and had walked with trays of hospital food into rooms along the other side of the hall. 

“Your room should be ready by now,” Tom said, finally, after Marianne had rated every human emotion on a scale of one to five and described repeatedly how she had planned to hang herself from her closet door. “I’ll show you around on the way.”

  
He led Marianne back past the room with the windows, where people now ate at the tables. “This is the community room. This is where we hold most of our groups and where people just go to hang out and eat meals. The other place we have groups is the meeting room, which is also where we have our discharge meetings. That’s where when you leave, your family comes to meet with your therapist and we talk about how they can support your recovery. Do you live with anyone?” 

Marianne nodded. 

“Then we’ll find a good time for them to meet with us here before you head out.” 

They turned a corner back into the atrium with the nurses’ station. Now, the clusters of chairs had people sitting in them, visitors, if Hilda’s text about the visiting hours was correct. Despite, well, everything about Hilda, Marianne wished she were there with her. 

“Your room is past the laundry room,” said Tom, as he walked her around the groups of people. “Number 144.”

As they passed the last group of people, one of them, a woman around Marianne’s age, turned and waved. “Hey, are you new?”

Marianne froze. She nodded stiffly, fiddling with her wristband.

“Welcome,” the woman said, smiling. “I’m Camila. What’s your name?” 

“Marianne,” she said softly.

“See you around, Marianne,” Camila said.

Marianne and Tom kept walking, past a door he pointed out as a laundry room, until they reached a wooden door with a strange door handle, which was open at the bottom. Tom pressed in on the handle, and the door swung open. 

Inside was a room that reminded Marianne of her dorm room from her freshman year of college. There were two beds on opposite sides of the room, and two open wardrobes with metal hooks and two desks. The beds was made and towels were folded at their bottoms. There was a large window facing out over the hospital parking lot, In the remaining corner beside the window, there was a door leading to what Marianne assumed was a small bathroom. On the wall, there was a print of a garden. 

“Here’s your room, Marianne. You don’t have a roommate for now, because we’re well under capacity, so the room’s all yours. I want to show you something,” said Tom, walking over to one of the wardrobes. 

Marianne followed.

Tom reached for one of the hooks and pulled down sharply. The hook folded out, slanting down rather than up, so that anything suspended from it would have fallen. “See, if you try to hang yourself from one of these, you’ll slide right off.” He moved over to the window and knocked on it. “Reinforced glass. Same with that picture frame over there.” He opened the bathroom door, again with the strange door handle. “Can’t tie anything to these doorknobs,” he said. “This is your bathroom. See the shower curtain?” He pointed up at the ceiling above it. “It’s stuck up there with magnets, so don’t pull too hard on it.” He pushed the curtain back. “This shower operates by button. Press down on this--” he pointed to a metal button set into the wall, “and the water runs warm for ten minutes. We don’t have shower knobs here. And it’s just an on button, if you try to press it to turn the water off, you’ll just get ten more minutes of water.”

Marianne and Tom walked back out into the main room. Tom continued talking. “As you can see, you’re completely safe here. And if you ever don’t feel completely safe, just come tell one of us, or anyone at the nurses’ station, and we can figure out how to keep you safe. Now, do you want to go see the community room? It’s probably a lot less crowded now.”

Before Marianne could answer, a nurse came in through the door. “There you are, Marianne. You have a visitor waiting for you by the nurses’ station. She brought you something.”

_ Hilda. Thank you, Goddess _ ,  _ for sending her _ . 

“Alright, we can finish up the tour later. Go meet with your visitor.” Tom said. “Visiting hours are over in about 45 minutes, so make the best of the time you have.”

“Thank you,” Marianne said. “Sorry to go now.”  
“No problemo,” said Tom. “Have a good visit.”

Marianne turned to go. She wondered what it was that Hilda had brought her. She hoped it was a pair of pajamas for the night or her textbooks so she didn’t get behind in her classes. Marianne followed the nurse back towards the nurses’ station, where Hilda was waiting.


	5. Hilda

Hilda was standing by the nurses’ station when Marianne arrived. “Marianne,” she exclaimed, “I’m so sorry I’m late, I had to get a ride from Caspar. Anyway, I brought you a chai.” She handed Marianne one of the paper coffee cups she was carrying. “They took the rest of the stuff I brought for you to search? Marianne,” she lowered her voice, “what the fuck happened? I saw your closet. Are you, like, ok? Do you want to talk about it?”

Marianne shook her head and chose her words carefully. “I’m so sorry, Hilda, for not thinking of you. I don’t need to talk about it any more than you want to, but I’m sorry for not talking to you first.”

“Marianne! You don’t need to apologize so much. I just wish I could’ve helped you more. I could’ve gotten someone to drive you here. Imagining you taking the bus on your own to the hospital makes me want to cry.” 

“I’m sorry Hilda, please don’t cry.” 

“I’m not going to cry, don’t worry. I just meant I’m here for you. You don’t have to take everything on on your own you know.” 

Marianne took a sip of her chai. “Um, thank you. And thank you for the tea. You said Caspar drove you?” 

“Yeah, he’s in the hospital Starbucks downstairs. I told him that you probably only wanted close friends with you right now. And don’t worry,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I told him you were having heart trouble and just needed to be monitored.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. Hilda considered herself a “close friend.” There was probably a pun to be made on the fact that Marianne considered Hilda the “closest thing she had to a friend.” Still, it was kind of her to leave the latest member of her rotating cast of boyfriends out of everything. Maybe Hilda was more thoughtful than she let on. 

“But how are things here? Was it scary?” Hilda asked.

Marianne thought for a moment. “It’s terrifying,” she said. That was it, that was how she was feeling. “I never know what they’re going to ask of me next. I know that the Goddess sent me here for a reason, but I feel so weak and I couldn’t say no. They took my things and made me take down my braids and I don’t know when I’ll have my dinner or where to find it. I haven’t even had a full tour of the ward; I don’t know where I am or how long I’ll be here. I know it’s wrong of me to complain because this is for my own safety, but I, I--” She stopped. The relief of knowing what she felt gave way to realizing just how much she had told her roommate.

“Oh Marianne!” Hilda said. There were tears in her eyes, though Marianne had no way of knowing if they were genuine. “Can I give you a hug? That sounds just awful.”

Hilda had hugged her once before, when she was drunk and couldn’t stop talking about how pretty Marianne’s hair was. It had been months, Marianne realized, since she’d been hugged. After all, anyone who got too close to her was subject to the curse. Marianne had told Hilda about it back then, but Hilda hadn’t listened, and the very next day, Hilda had gotten a call that her brother was sick. 

Marianne had known Hilda for four years. They had been roommates in the dorms, and afterwards in the apartments near campus where they lived now. Marianne knew Hilda was lazy, spoiled, and manipulative. Hilda barely studied, didn’t clean up after herself, and lied to everyone. But Hilda had come all this way to see her, had brought her her things, had listened with sympathy. She didn’t deserve to be cursed. Not again.

“Um, I don’t think we should,” said Marianne, sadly. “Sorry…”

“No, you really don’t need to be sorry,” said Hilda. “But seriously, Marianne, this whole thing must be so hard on you, especially when you’re already obviously struggling. Please, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know. I can keep visiting you, of course.”

“Um, that, that would be very kind of you,” Marianne said. “You don’t have to of course, but I would like that very much.” Marianne took another sip of tea. It was awfully nice of Hilda to have brought it. 

“Then I’ll come back tomorrow for sure,” said Hilda. “By the way I brought you some of your clothes and some shampoo like you asked and  _ Animal Behavior _ and  _ Ecological Statistics _ . I couldn’t tell which books were for your Lit class and which were for fun, so I just brought the first few I found. Your room’s even worse than mine.” 

“I’m sorry for making such a mess. It’s just been so hard to clean lately. Thank you for bringing my things,” said Marianne. 

“Hey, it’s not my room, so it’s no problem for me. I could clean it for you so you can come back to a clean room if you want?” said Hilda.

She said it casually, but Marianne couldn’t believe her ears. Hilda had had maids growing up. When Hilda came home after classes, she usually just dumped her jacket and books by the door and left them there. Hilda ate almost exclusively off paper plates to avoid doing dishes. Marianne wasn’t sure that Hilda even knew how to hold a broom. 

“Thank you, that’s so kind...Are you sure?” Marianne asked.

“Of course. And if it’s too terrible, I could just get somebody else to do it. Lorenz would probably do it out of pity if I told him about your ‘heart trouble.’”

Marianne found herself laughing. Hilda’s suggestion was so kind, but of course, she was the same Hilda as always. 

Hilda began laughing too. “You have such a pretty laugh, Marianne.”. 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. Then she remembered something. “I’m sorry to bother you about this, but if you do ask Lorenz to clean my room, would you please, um, take down what’s in the closet first? I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” said Hilda. “You don’t have to be sorry for asking about that.” 

Just then, one of the nurses called out from the station. “Ten minutes until visiting hours are over.”

“Um, Marianne,” said Hilda, “are you going to be ok here tonight? Like are the other patients here ok? They aren’t like, psychotic or anything?” 

_ Imagine thinking that she was in danger because of other people rather than the other way around. Imagine thinking Marianne wasn’t the most dangerous person in the hospital _ . “I, I haven’t met anyone really yet. It seems safe, I think,” she said. 

“I just don’t want to leave you around people who might hurt you,” said Hilda. “I’m glad you feel safe here, but I’ll definitely be back tomorrow. Do you know when you’ll be allowed to leave?”

“Well, I’m not sure,” said Marianne. “I’m sorry.”

“You really don’t need to be sorry. I’ll keep visiting. I don’t want to leave my precious Marianne here alone.” 

“It isn’t dangerous, I don’t think,” said Marianne. “Just very strange.”

“Well even so,” said Hilda. “I don’t want to leave you alone. I’m here for you, Marianne.” 

It was nice of her to say that, but Marianne couldn’t believe her. Couldn’t accept her offer. “Thank you,” she said anyway. 

“Of course, we’re friends, right?” said Hilda. “Anyway visiting hours are almost over, so I should probably get going.”

“Ok,” said Marianne. “Have a good rest of your evening.”

“Thanks,” Hilda said. “You too. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Marianne nodded. “Um, thank you. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” said Hilda, standing up. 

Marianne finished her chai. It had gotten cold, but it was the first thing she had eaten since breakfast. Groups of people around the room got up and began to head towards the doors. One of the CNAs stood nearby to let them out. It suddenly sank in that Marianne was locked in here, that she couldn’t just leave, along with Hilda, along with all the visitors. She was locked up. And she truly did not know how long she would have to stay that way. If she tried to leave and the psychiatrists here decided that she wasn’t “safe” they would put her under a hold. She was trapped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I'm sorry to all Hilda fans.


	6. Community Meeting

Marianne was brought out of her reverie by Irene, who had made her way over to the armchair where she sat. “Marianne, your friend brought you some of your things. We’ve got them in paper bags at the nurses’ station if you want to take them to your room. Also, have you had dinner yet?” 

Marianne shook her head. “My roommate brought me tea though.”

“Well, after you get your stuff, you should probably check the community room; that’s where they usually bring the trays. Also there’s a community meeting at 7:30 you’ll probably want to go to.” Irene turned back to the nurses’ station and Marianne followed. 

They handed her two large paper bags filled with clothes and books and toiletries. Marianne carried them, one at a time, back to room 144 and spread their contents on the bed. She folded and put the clothing on the shelves in the wardrobe, stacked the books on the desk, and went into the bathroom with the bottle of shampoo and bar of soap. At the bottom of one of the bags was the stuffed horse she kept on her bed. Dorte. Marianne hugged him, then placed him tenderly on the bed and tucked him in. There were no pajamas, and no deodorant. She wondered if the hospital had those for people who didn’t have anyone to bring them their things. They must. She’d have to ask at the nurses’ station later. 

Next, Marianne made her way to the community room. The room itself was about the size of the atrium in front of the nurses’ station, but filled with cafeteria style tables. There were whiteboards on the walls and a standing whiteboard with what looked like a schedule written on it. On a long table in the back were containers of plastic sporks, napkins, teabags, and crackers. There was also a sink, a hot water dispenser, and a stack of paper cups. A few people were gathered around one of the tables, talking. 

Marianne spotted a tray with a salad on it, and went to grab it. She turned to leave with the tray, to go eat in her room, but then, spotting the clock on the wall, decided it would be best to stay here and wait for the community meeting while she ate. She set the tray back down at an empty table and went to fill up a water cup and get herself a fork. 

Of course, this meant passing by the table where people were gathered. Marianne gave a polite nod as she walked past the small group, who thankfully didn’t try to engage her in conversation. One of them, an elderly woman in a pink blouse, gave her a quick wave, but that was all. 

It felt like Marianne had only taken a single bite of her undressed, lukewarm salad before a chime sounded somewhere in the hall and people began filing into the community room to sit at the tables. Not including the nurses and therapists, who all wore nametags clipped to their chests, Marianne counted about ten other patients. Patients greeted each other, chatted, and settled into their chairs. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but may I sit here?” It was a large blond man with gauze taped over his right eye. 

“Oh, um, yes, it’s fine,” said Marianne. It was risky, of course, but politeness won out. It wouldn’t be too much harm after all; he’d only be sitting with her for the duration of the meeting.

“Thank you.” He settled into the seat across the table from her. “My name’s Dimitri, by the way.”

“I’m Marianne,” she answered. 

One of the staff stood up. “Now that everyone is here, do we have any volunteers to read any of our main script, our announcements, or our guidelines?” 

A few hands went up. “Alright, Michael, how about you do the main script. Camila, here’s the announcements, and Denice, you can do guidelines. Dimitri, would you mind passing out the feelings words sheets?” The staff member passed by their table, handing Dimitri a stack of papers. 

Dimitri passed a paper to Marianne, and got up to make his rounds around the room. Marianne looked over it. It seemed to be a list of words for how a person might feel. She wondered what purpose this would come to serve in the meeting. 

Dimitri sat back down, and the meeting began in earnest. First the man Marianne guessed must be Michael began to read: “Welcome to our evening community meeting. Today’s date is March 16th, and it is 7:30 pm. Do we have anyone here who joined our community today? Please raise your hand.”

Marianne, trembling, raised her hand. 

Michael continued. “Thank you. Now we will go around the room and share our names and how we’re feeling.”

There was a moment’s silence, before Camila broke it. “I’m Camila, and I’m feeling grateful.” 

After Camila, the people in the room, patients and staff alike, stated their names and words from the sheet of paper. Marianne scanned the sheet, and settled on “nervous.” It was mild enough to be understandable, but accurate to how she was feeling. 

It was her table’s turn. “I’m Dimitri, and I’m feeling slightly headachey.”

Marianne inhaled. “I’m Marianne, and I’m feeling nervous.” 

Dimitri turned and gave her a sympathetic smile, and the introductions continued. 

Once the introductions had finished, Michael started reading again. “Now it’s time for our evening announcements.”

Camila read from her sheet. “One: for those of you who take evening medication, please visit the meds room between eight and ten pm. The exception to this is medications taken specifically for sleep, which should be taken immediately before you want to go to bed, if that’s after ten pm. Two: The community room will be open until eleven pm to promote sleep hygiene. However, if you need access after eleven for tea or a midnight snack, please ask at the nurses’ station and they will happily open it for you. Are there any other announcements?” 

“Nope, don’t think so,” said one of the staff. 

Michael continued: “Now it’s time for our community guidelines.”

A woman Marianne guessed was Denise began to read. “First: this is a place of healing. As such, no violence will be tolerated. Violence includes physical harm to others, use of weapons, threats of violence, use of insults or slurs, and violence to self. Second: please be mindful of personal space, and ask permission before touching or hugging. Third: be mindful of topics of conversation. Conversations about matters like suicide, self harm, substance use, violence, or trauma may impede others’ healing. Even conversation about matters like politics or religion may become too heated. If you are ready to discuss these topics, please find a staff member to talk to; they are always available. Fourth: patients are not to enter each other’s rooms. Um, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” said Michael. “After tonight’s community meeting there will be a brief guided relaxation, followed by either games or a movie with popcorn. What’re people feeling like doing tonight?”

“Movie,” someone called out, to murmurs of assent.

“Alright, after guided relaxation, we can vote on a movie,” Michael continued. Marianne couldn’t tell what was from the script and what wasn’t. “Do we have a volunteer to write gratitudes?”

“I can do it,” called out a man who had introduced himself as Evan. Marianne recognized him as the person who had been reading by the nurses’ station when she came in. Evan walked up to one of the whiteboards, and wrote the word “Gratitudes” across the top. 

One by one, the people in the room began to call out the things they were grateful for. “Books.” “Supportive friends.” “My dog.” “All dogs.” “Socks.” “Clean sheets.” “Taylor Swift.” “Books-oh wait we already have that.” “Outside time.” “All my coworkers.” “Safety.” “Tea.” “Family.” “Meds.” “Laundry,” Dimitri added. “Insurance.” “Showers.” “FMLA leave.”

When the patients’ gratitude was exhausted, a staff member who had introduced himself as “the milieu counselor” announced that it was time for guided relaxation. Marianne knew that she could use some time to relax, but she supposed the best way for her to do so would be to take a shower and read. And so, Marianne got up and left the room, along with Dimitri, and several of the other patients and staff. 

First, Marianne went to the nurses’ station. She waited a little while before anyone noticed her. Eventually one of the nurses looked up and pushed her chair over. “Do you need something?”

Marianne nodded, “I’m sorry, but I was wondering if you had any um, deodorant or pajamas? My friend brought some of my things but not either of those.”

“Sure, let me go get some. We have deodorant, but all the clothes we have are scrubs. Is that alright?” the nurse asked.

“That’s fine, thank you very much,” said Marianne. 

The nurse went through the door in the back and returned with a set of scrubs and a stick of roll-on deodorant. Marianne thanked her again, and returned to room 144, ready to take a shower and read until she fell asleep.


	7. Shower Curtain

Once Marianne returned to her room, she unbuttoned her blouse and pulled off her skirt and stockings. She undid her braids and combed them out with her fingers. She then took one of the towels and went into the bathroom in the corner of her room. She set the towel on the toilet seat before stepping into the shower and pressing the button on the wall. It had been an exhausting day, and Marianne needed a moment in the shower to simply be, to reflect on everything that had happened, and come to terms with it all. 

Once the water started, Marianne noticed a gap between the magnetic shower curtain and the wall, and she tugged on the shower curtain to close it, to make sure her towel didn’t get sprayed with water. The shower curtain wouldn’t budge. She tugged again, harder this time, and the entire curtain came down in her hands, covering her in cold, damp plastic. 

Marianne cried out. She threw the shower curtain off of her, and miserably watched the water spray around the tiny room. She leaned hard on the shower button, trying to turn off the water, but nothing happened. The shower continued. Too late, Marianne remembered Tom’s warning:  _ “it’s just an on button, if you try to press it to turn the water off, you’ll just get ten more minutes of water.”  _ Marianne’s shower was going to spray water all over the room for twenty minutes.  _ Goddess, whatever I have done to deserve this, please forgive me _ . 

Soaking wet and naked, Marianne tried to fasten the shower curtain up to the ceiling but found she wasn’t tall enough to reach. She would have to get somebody’s help, at least when the shower stopped running.  _ Goddess, why? _

And so Marianne showered, letting the water soak the entire bathroom, because there was nothing else she could do. When she was done, she left the bathroom, with the shower still running, to grab a different towel, and changed into the fresh scrubs she had been given. So much for a relaxing shower. Then Marianne waited for the water to stop. She couldn’t get anyone to help her while the shower was still running. She began to notice water leaking out from under the bathroom door. It was spreading all over her room, running along the floor towards the beds and wardrobes. 

Suddenly one of the nurses opened the door and poked her head into Marianne’s room. Marianne jumped. “Just checking in,” she said, and closed the door to leave again.

“Wait,” called Marianne. “My shower, um, the shower curtain fell down.”

“Oh no,” said the nurse, whose name tag read Erika. “The shower’s still running?” 

“Yes, said Marianne. “I tried to turn it off but I forgot about the button. I’m sorry.”

Erika smiled. “Don’t worry about it. It happens all the time. I’ll go get some more towels to clean up the mess.”  
“Thank you. I’m so sorry,” said Marianne. “Do you need help carrying them?”  
“That would be nice. Let’s go get some spare linens so we can stop the water on your floor. I think we’ll need somebody taller than either of us to put the shower curtain back up, so I’ll get Tom or Aaron to help us.” Erika headed out into the hall and Marianne followed. 

They walked past the nurses’ station. Erika stopped one of the male nurses, whom Marianne assumed was Aaron. “We’ve got a shower curtain down in room 144?”  
“Again?” Aaron asked.

“Yep, this just keeps happening, doesn’t it?” Erika quipped back. “Anyway, we’re getting towels. Do you mind checking to see if the shower’s turned off and you can get the shower curtain back up?” 

“Will do,” said Aaron. He walked around the nurses’ station and headed back towards Marianne’s room. 

Marianne and Erika continued to a set of sliding doors on the other side of the nurses’ station, across from the community room. Marianne could see a tv flickering inside. Erika unlocked the doors and began to pull out folded towels. Marianne reached out to take them, and realized too late that her forearms weren’t covered by the scrubs. Fortunately, Erika said nothing as she loaded towels onto Marianne’s outstretched arms.  _ Thank you, Goddess _ . 

They returned to the room to find the shower off and Aaron standing in the bathroom, reattaching the shower curtain back to the ceiling, magnet by magnet. “These magnets are tricky, but I’m almost done,” he said by way of greeting.

Erika grabbed up a towel and dropped it into the puddle of water on the floor. Marianne handed her another one and then put the last one down herself. The towels on the floor quickly became sodden, and Erika and Marianne left to get more. Despite the frequent reassurances that the shower curtains fell often in the psychiatric ward, Marianne felt deeply embarrassed. Especially with her hair down and wet and wearing short sleeves and hospital wristband, she felt naked. All she wanted to do was go to bed and try to forget everything, but even sleep would bring no respite in an unfamiliar bed. 

Marianne and Erika brought back more towels and a laundry basket for the soaked towels and mopped up the rest of the water. After they were done, Aaron and Erika bid Marianne goodnight, and left her, alone in her room. 

Marianne walked over to the window and looked out at the darkened parking lot. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to be at home, in her own bed, in her own pajamas, with Dorte the stuffed horse tucked in beside her, and the comforting shapes of clothes draped over her chair and desk, and the scattered books on the floor to choose from. She had Dorte and she had some books with her, but none of them were the one she was in the middle of.  _ Goddess, please hear my prayer. Let me go home. I want to go home _ .

And then the thought came, unbidden that if she were at home, she wouldn’t be reading in bed. She would be dead. She would be dangling in her closet, or perhaps Hilda would have found her by now, but either way, it wouldn’t have mattered to her, because she would have been dead. And while yes, she wanted to be with the Goddess, more than anything else, to stand beside her and in her light and be truly one with her, she also wanted to be sitting in her bed, reading the next chapter of  _ Middlemarch _ , and holding Dorte. Which she couldn’t do, if she were dead.  _ I want to be alive. At home and alive _ . At that moment she,  _ forgive me Goddess for this transgression _ , wanted that more than she wanted to be dead and in the Goddess’s light. Was that the same as wanting to live? As being glad to be alive? Because being alive meant that someday, she could go home? Was there a way for her to be alive and to be at home? Was being sent to a psychiatric ward really the only option she had? 

Pondering this, Marianne took  _ The Wide Sargasso Sea _ from the stack. She had already read it, but wanted to read it again. She sat in the bed and opened her book, propping it open on Dorte. This bed wasn’t as comfortable as the one she had at home. The mattress was lumpy and sagged in places, the blanket was stiff, and the pillow was too thin. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t even close.  _ I want to go home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter


	8. Morning

Marianne awoke to another nurse opening the door. “Just checking,” she called, and shut the door behind her. There was no confusion; Marianne knew exactly where she was. She gazed over at the empty bed across the room from her, and wondered if they’d give her a roommate today. Her back hurt from sleeping on the lumpy, sagging mattress. The floor would’ve been more comfortable.

After a moment, Marianne sat up and began her morning prayer, a jumble of what she’d been taught and bits she’d added over the years. It came to her automatically by now.  _ Thank you Goddess for the gift of a new day, for the morning’s light. Thank you for the beautiful world that you have created. I ask forgiveness for the sins of yesterday and that this day, I may be drawn closer to your light. Take my life, oh Goddess, take me to you in the coming day. Thank you _ .

Finishing her prayer, Marianne stood and stretched. Her morning prayer, now that she thought about it, contained the wish to die that day. She tried to think back, to remember when she added that to her prayer, but couldn’t. Regardless, she really did hope she’d die that day. Her back hurt, she’d slept badly, and she had brought her curse into a hospital, the last place a curse should be. 

Marianne dressed quickly, in a long grey skirt, grey stockings, and a navy blue blouse. She ran her fingers through her hair. She’d forgotten to ask for a comb, but for now, fingers were enough. She deftly plaited it into two braids, which she joined at the back to make a bun. They hadn’t confiscated her hair ties, so she used one of those to hold it in place. It felt odd, like it might fall at any moment, but there was nothing more she could do for it. 

She cracked open the door of her room, and walked out to check the clock at the nurses’ station. 7:15. That was early for her to be up, but too late for her to go back to bed. Instead, Marianne started towards the community room to make herself some tea and check to see if the breakfast trays had been delivered.

“Good morning, Marianne,” called Erika from the nurses’ station. “Have you had your vitals checked yet?” 

Marianne nodded and walked over to the desk. “Irene checked me yesterday.”   


“Oh no,” said Erika. “We check vitals daily here, just to make sure no one’s getting sick. Wait there and I’ll call Jennifer over, and she can check your vitals for you. Also, did you come in through the ER?” She entered something on her computer. 

“Um, no,” said Marianne. 

“Ok, because the doctor is going to want a urine sample if they didn’t get one in the ER. I’ll drop off the cup in your room. We’re also going to have to pull you for a blood test before your breakfast. Do you take any medications?” Erika spoke rapidly.

Marianne shook her head. 

“That’s good, because until your chart gets here, we can’t provide any medication.” Erika turned to a CNA walking by with a cart like the one Irene had the previous day. “Jennifer, Marianne hasn’t had her vitals taken yet.”

“I’m on it,” said the CNA, who Marianne supposed must be Jennifer. 

Marianne took a seat in one of the armchairs as Jennifer wheeled over the cart. She extended her arm for the blood pressure cuff, and her hand for the oximeter. Jennifer readied the thermometer and held it out, so Marianne opened her mouth. She supposed it was best to just get this over with, since there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Still, the idea of a urine test and a blood test bothered her. She hadn’t had a blood test in years. What if they found some kind of evidence she was cursed and kicked her out of the hospital? What if they sent her to jail over it, or some secret curse research facility? 

The cuff beeped and loosened, and Jennifer removed it. “All good. Erika should be telling the lab team you’re up and ready for your blood test, so they’ll be coming to get you soon. Don’t eat breakfast until after the blood test, ok?” 

Marianne nodded. “Thank you.”

After Jennifer was gone, Marianne didn’t quite know what to do with herself. A few other patients walked past her to the community room, probably on their way to have breakfast, but she had been warned not to join them. Instead, Marianne returned to her room, hoping to get some reading done before she was called to her blood test. 

Upon entering her room, Marianne discovered a brown paper bag left on the unmade bed. Inside of it was a plastic vial and a half sheet of paper containing instructions for “collecting a urine sample.” She supposed it was best to just get the indignity over with.  _ Goddess, give me strength _ . 

Marianne returned to her room, and picked her book off the floor. She opened to where she’d left off the night before, but she had barely read a sentence before a nurse opened the door. 

“Marianne? We’re ready to do your blood test. Have you finished with the urine sample?” said the nurse. 

“Um, yes, thank you,” she answered, and put her book down. 

Marianne followed the nurse to the other side of the nurses’ station and through a door into a medical exam room with a chair with a paper covering, and a cart with a needle and set of vials on it. The phlebotomist was already there, applying labels to the vials. She smiled up as Marianne walked in.

“Hello,” she said. “Are you Marianne von Edmund?”

Marianne nodded. 

“Wonderful, just take a seat right over there, and put your arm in the armrest--yes just like that. Would you roll up your sleeve?”

_ Nobody would care here _ . Marianne did as she was told, and the phlebotomist smiled at her and inserted the needle. Marianne watched as the blood coursed along the tube into the first, and then the second vial. There was something satisfying about seeing her own blood outside of her.

Then it was over. “Please hold this here,” said the phlebotomist, pressing a wadded up piece of gauze and pressing it into Marianne’s elbow.

Marianne held it down as the phlebotomist removed the needle and wrapped her elbow with tape. 

“Now sit there for as long as you need to. We don’t want you feeling dizzy,” the phlebotomist said as she packed up the vials. 

“Thank you,” replied Marianne. She stayed in the chair a moment and looked down at her arm, at the patches of thin scars like barcodes. She didn’t feel dizzy at all, but the chair was comfortable, and her back still hurt. 

After a minute or two, she buttoned her sleeve back up and stood. Finally, it was time for tea and breakfast. She thanked the phlebotomist again, and walked past her into the open area in front of the nurses’ station. Typically, Marianne read from her textbooks while eating breakfast, jogging her memory before class, but she wouldn’t be attending class today. It would probably be fine to eat in the community room, as long as she could find her own table. 

By the time she arrived at the community room, many of the patients were already present and eating. A small group had gathered around Camila, who was talking about a trip to Dagda, from what Marianne could tell. A cart filled with trays had been delivered. Marianne approached the cart and began checking trays. Fortunately, they all contained slips with patients’ names and room numbers. Marianne found her tray, made herself a cup of tea, and scanned the room for a place to sit. There were no empty tables. Other than Camila’s group, people were spread pretty evenly between tables. She looked for Dimitri, but he wasn’t there.  _ Goddess give me strength _ . 

Marianne instead approached the woman who had the night before introduced herself as Linda. She was older, with silver hair pulled back into a low ponytail, and freckles across her wrinkled face. “Excuse me,” said Marianne, “But may I sit with you?”   


“Of course, let me just move my tray out of your way,” said Linda.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that. I’m sorry,” Marianne said.

Despite that, Linda pulled her tray in closer to herself, and Marianne set hers down opposite her. Finally, breakfast.


	9. Linda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is one of the more oc heavy chapters. Also warning for discussion of psychiatric abuse. It gets at its most intense in this chapter.

There were no knives for Marianne to cut open her banana, and the cereal and milk on her tray both came in single serving containers, so she couldn’t help but think of all the trash she’d be sending to a landfill somewhere. It seemed awfully wasteful.

Linda had already finished her breakfast and was drinking a cup of coffee. She eyed Marianne’s cup. “That tea’s decaf.”

“Um, sorry,” said Marianne. She didn’t know what else to say. She hadn’t checked.

Linda went on. “The coffee here is too. I had a terrible headache my first two days. But even decaf coffee has a little caffeine in it, about three percent, so I drink a few cups of it, and it’s enough to get me through the day. They take it away at about one o’clock so you have to get it all in before then.”  
“Thank you,” said Marianne. She hated coffee, but if she got a headache, she supposed she could bear it. 

“You got here last night, didn’t you? Is it your first time?” Linda asked.

Marianne internally shuddered at the thought of leaving and having to come back. “Yes. I only just saw a psychiatrist for the first time yesterday, and she referred me here.” 

Linda raised her eyebrows. “Threw you in the deep end, didn’t they? This is my third time at GMMC. It’s better than the ward at Fhirdiad General, but that isn’t saying much.”  
“Are you from Fhirdiad?” asked Marianne. It was only a ninety minute drive north; the IKEA Marianne and Hilda had used to furnish their apartment was in Fhirdiad, and most of Marianne’s memories of the city revolved around the endless expanses of parking lot and outlet mall on its outskirts. 

“Worked for thirty years at the VA hospital there, in radiology. I miss it sometimes, but my mom got sick, and I moved back to take care of her, and just wound up staying. How about you, are you from around here?” 

“I’m from outside of Derdriu, I moved here to go to school,” said Marianne.

“Leicester State?” asked Linda.

Marianne nodded.

“That’s a good school; you must be very smart. You know, they used to say to me, at Fhirdiad General, ‘what’s a doctor like you doing in a place like this?’ And you know what I’d tell them? ‘Same as you!’” Linda laughed at her own joke. 

Marianne chuckled politely. 

“You settling in alright? Did you get a chance to look over the schedule yet? Any groups sound interesting to you?” Linda asked in rapid succession. 

“Um, I’m sorry, I haven’t looked at the schedule yet,” answered Marianne. She turned around to check the whiteboard. It listed a morning community meeting followed by “Sleep Hygiene,” “Boundaries and Relationships,” “Expressive Therapy,” and “Behavioral Activation.” 

“I need that Boundaries and Relationships group,” Linda said, laughing. “I’ve done it before, but I still need the refresher.”

“What’s it like?” Marianne asked. The idea of coming back here after leaving just made her feel more depressed, but she also had no idea what any of the groups seemed to mean. 

“They talk about boundaries, if you have porous boundaries, which is when you don’t set boundaries enough and take on everybody else’s problems, or rigid boundaries, which is when you set too many boundaries and keep everybody out. If you have porous boundaries, like I do, you want to help everybody and you set yourself up for burnout, and then you end up here. I have very porous boundaries. I’m always trying to take care of people, but it just leaves me feeling worse.”

Marianne made a mental note to never ask anything of Linda lest she make herself a burden to her. “I’m sorry.” 

“Aw, you’re fine.” Linda finished her coffee. “I’m gonna go get another coffee. Gotta get that caffeine. You need anything?” She got up from the table.

“No thank you, sorry,” said Marianne. 

“Alright.” Linda walked away from the table to refill her cup, and Marianne tore the lid off her packet of cereal and poured on her milk. 

When Linda returned, she continued talking. “Sleep Hygiene means having healthy sleep habits. They’re very big on sleep hygiene here, so that group might be useful if you have trouble sleeping. Then there’s expressive therapy, which means art or movement. They have that or process group every day. When you get the chance you should go to the process group. It’s very intense but very cathartic.”

“Um, what is process group?” asked Marianne.

“It’s a group where we sit in a circle and talk about our feelings and our stories. It’s definitely not something to do on your first day, but you should still go when they do have it.” Linda took a sip of coffee. 

Marianne wondered if she was burdening Linda, running roughshod all over her boundaries. Probably. But Linda continued talking anyway.

“After the third group of the day, they have outside time. You meet here in the community room, and they take you into a little courtyard, just for some fresh air. Most people bring books, but some people just like to talk. It lasts about half an hour. When the weather’s nice, they take out balls for the people who want to play games. I wish they’d let me garden here but you know, you can’t have everything.”

“Thank you so much for telling me. So today’s going to be morning meeting, then sleep hygiene group, then boundaries group, then art or movement, then outside time, then behavioral activation, then visiting hours from 5:30 to 7? Are all the groups in here?” Marianne asked.

“Yes, the groups are almost always here, unless only three people show up or something,” said Linda. 

“Thank you so much,” said Marianne. She was beginning to get an understanding of what her day would look like. She took another bite of her cereal. 

“You should get to meet with a psychiatrist or the medical doctor today too. That’s another way this place is better than Fhirdiad General. I could spend a whole 72 hours there and not see one other person with an MD. You don’t have to find them; they’ll come get you. That’s the thing about this place. It isn’t very big, so there’s not too many places you could be. You’re either in your room, by the nurses’ station, in the library area, or in here. Or outside, I guess, if it’s outside time.”

“Um, I’m sorry to bother you but is it ok if I keep asking you questions?” asked Marianne. She did have more she wanted to know, and Linda seemed like someone who would tell her. 

“Ask away, that’s what I’m here for,” said Linda, and Marianne felt terrible. “I’m always happy to help.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, please ask,” said Linda.

Marianne pressed on, hating herself. “If I need to call someone, like, I have to call my dad. How do I do that?” 

“Oh yeah, that’s important, if you have a job or a family. Ask at the nurses’ station. They have a phone back there that you can use. They also have a computer if you need to download any sick leave forms,” said Linda. “Is there anything else you want to know?” 

“Um, are they going to make me take pills?” asked Marianne. She wasn’t sure what the Goddess would think about it if they did, if the Goddess would object. If pills made her feel better but she was still a sinful and cursed person, wouldn’t that be a violation of the Goddess’s will?

“They’ll tell you to, but I’ve never seen them force anybody here. I don’t think they force you to take them unless you’re a danger to others, and most of the dangerous people get sent to Fhirdiad General. They’ll force you to take anything and everything there,” said Linda. 

“So if I’m not hurting anybody, I don’t have to take anything?” asked Marianne.

“Probably not, but I wouldn’t push it too hard. You don’t want to get restrained or anything. Also if you act up too much here, they send you to Fhirdiad General and get a hold put on you,” said Linda casually. She took another sip of coffee.

Marianne shuddered. She had no idea how Linda could talk about it without crying, being forced to take medication at Fhirdiad General. Marianne looked out the window of the community room and over towards the nurses’ station, where a few of the therapists and psychiatrists were conversing. She wondered how many people they’d restrained between them. She wondered how many very ill people they’d decided were too much trouble to keep here and sent elsewhere to be treated like dirt. She thought about her own guilt and how much she hated herself every time she opened her mouth to speak, and she wondered how they slept at night.


	10. The Interview

After she had called the Leicester State student services office to let them know she was in the hospital and would be missing classes, Marianne asked if she could use the phone just a little longer, to call her adoptive father. 

“Sure, just keep it under ten minutes,” said the nurse at the desk. 

“Thank you,” Marianne said and typed in the number. Her hand was shaking slightly. She heard the phone ring and ring again. The ringing went on, until she heard the now familiar recording of Margrave Edmund’s voice on the answering machine: “Hello, you have reached the Edmund residence. If you would leave your name and number after the beep, I will return your call as soon as possible. Thank you.”

“Um, hello, it’s Marianne. I’m calling from the hospital so I don’t know what number you can reach me at, so I’ll just try again later. Sorry. I’m in the hospital. But I’m fine. That’s all.” Marianne’s words were a jumble, but she was always so nervous when she spoke to him. 

Once Marianne put down the phone, she noticed that a woman in a tailored suit was standing amidst the clusters of armchairs, looking at her. She wore a staff member’s badge and was carrying a clipboard. Seeing Marianne was looking at her, she began to walk towards her. 

“Hi Marianne, do you have some time to chat?” she said. “I’m Dr. Navarro; I’ll be your psychiatrist for your stay.” 

“Um, sure,” said Marianne. She turned back to the desk and told the nurse “I’m done with the phone.”

“Alright, thanks,” said the nurse, taking the phone back. 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. She began to follow Dr. Navarro, as she led her back towards room 144. 

“I think it would be best if we could talk somewhere where we won’t be interrupted,” said Dr. Navarro, pushing the door open. They walked inside.

Dr. Navarro pulled up the chair from the empty desk and motioned for Marianne to take a seat. Marianne sat down, nervous about this first meeting. 

“I got your records from Dr. Casagranda, so I already know a little bit about you, but I’d like to hear your story. So to start, can you tell me a little bit about what brought you here to GMMC?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“Um, I’m sorry, but do you mean to staying here, or do you mean to the medical center before I got sent here?” Marianne asked.

“I mean the latter,” said Dr. Navarro. “Thank you for asking me to clarify.”

“Well, I, um, I tried to join a group at the counseling center at my college, but they said that I wasn’t a good fit. They told me that they could refer me to the mental health department here, so I could find a better fit, but by the time I got the appointment, it was a month later and I’d already given up. I just came because I felt like I had to,” said Marianne, surprised at her own honesty.

“Mhm,” said Dr. Navarro. “You say you gave up. Can you tell me about when you gave up? What were the problems you were giving up on, what you had been hoping to solve before you gave up?”

Marianne took a moment, thinking. She started speaking slowly, but as she went on, her words started to run together. “I gave up this past month. I was going to change things in the new year, to deal with all my faults. I have a lot of faults, I think. I’ve never really enjoyed living in this world. It’s never been a very happy place for me. I’ve always felt dismal and gloomy, ever since I was a child. I’m under a curse, you see, and it makes terrible things happen to everyone around me. I want to be a good person, and live according to the Goddess’s will, so that I can be with Her when I die, so that She’ll forgive me, but the Goddess sometimes tells me that She hates me or that I’m disgusting or bad. I’m also not very good with people. I don’t feel like I can get close to anyone. Everyone who gets close to me has something bad happen to them, and I don’t know how to talk to people. I want to be forgiven, but I’m dirty and cursed and even though I love the Goddess, She’s the only one who can save me and--”  _ and she hasn’t _ . Marianne stopped before she could say it, but the thought was clear in her mind. “Goddess, forgive me this transgression,” she whispered in horror. 

Dr. Navarro nodded. “That’s a heavy burden to bear, Marianne. You say you’ve been unhappy since you were a child, how long have you felt that you were cursed?”

Marianne sat silently, aghast at what she had almost said. Eventually she spoke. “I first sensed it after my parents vanished. But, I realized it really was true more slowly, I think when I went away to college four years ago and saw how terrible things were in the world. And after the Goddess began to send me messages.”

“The Goddess sends you messages?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

Marianne nodded. “Yes, sometimes when I see graffiti saying some kind of insult, I know it was the Goddess who placed it for me to see, to tell me what a beast I am. Or once I found a newspaper with a story about a car wreck that killed five people right at my bus stop, and I knew She was telling me that it was my fault.”

“And these were placed intentionally by the Goddess?” Dr. Navarro asked. 

“Yes, I think so,” said Marianne. 

“Sometimes when people are under a lot of stress, they might have strange experiences. Do you ever see or hear things that other people don’t seem to, like somebody talking to you?” Dr. Navarro asked.

Marianne thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I don’t hear voices or anything like that. Sometimes I can feel someone watching me, but people tell me that’s just the Goddess watching over me.” 

Dr Navarro nodded. “Alright. Do you ever get the sense that something is ‘wrong’ with your thinking, or that your thoughts don’t quite make sense?” 

“I,” Marianne paused. “I know that the way that I see the world is unusual. I don’t tell people about my curse very often, and when I have told people, like when I went to the group at my school, they told me I wasn’t a good fit.” 

“So just to review, you have been feeling down or depressed very often since you were a child. But more, recently, that’s gotten worse, since you ‘gave up.’ In the last two weeks, has that been nearly every day, more than half the days, or several days?” Dr. Navarro asked

“Every day,” answered Marianne vehemently. 

“And you also have been receiving messages from the Goddess, and believe that you are under a curse that causes bad things to happen to people around you? This has been true since you started college.” 

Marianne nodded. “Yes.”

“Alright, thank you,” said Dr. Navarro. “You mentioned your parents ‘disappeared,’ can you tell me a little more about that?”

Marianne took a deep breath. “Well, when I was in fifth grade, so I was eleven, I got home from school, and my parents just never came home. I waited until after it got dark, and I got scared and I called a neighbor. They both worked at the same law firm, and their car was eventually found way out in the woods, and in the end the firm’s owner, Margrave Edmund, adopted me legally.” 

“Oh my, that’s a terrible thing to have to go through, Marianne,” said Dr. Navarro. “Do you want to talk more about it?”

“No,” Marianne said, but she went on anyway. “It is the first time my curse appeared. It took away my parents.”

“Do you blame yourself, then?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“Of course,” said Marianne, feeling welling up, the way it did whenever she dwelt on this. She hated this. “I’m the one with the curse.” 

“I’m so sorry,” said Dr. Navarro. “For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you.”

“Thank you, but you don’t know a thing about this,” said Marianne as calmly as she could. She wondered briefly if that would be enough to get her sent to Fhirdiad General. 

“I understand,” replied Dr. Navarro. “I have a few more questions for you if you feel like you’re in a place where you can answer them.”

“I can answer,” said Marianne. 

“So, in the last couple of weeks, you said you’ve been feeling down or depressed? On a scale of one to ten, with one being content with your life and ten being the worst you’ve ever felt, how would you rate the time since you ‘gave up’?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

Marianne took a moment to think. “Probably a seven.” 

“Thank you. Do you have any hobbies, Marianne?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“Um, I like horses. I had one when I was a teenager. I also like birdwatching,” said Marianne. “I, um, I go to church often.” 

“Have you been spending time with your horse or birdwatching lately? What about going to church?” Dr. Navarro asked.

Marianne thought back. “I haven’t seen my horse since the summer, and it’s been a few months since I’ve really done much birdwatching. I haven’t gone on a trip to any of the state parks in ages. I do go to church most weeks though. There’s a chapel on campus and sometimes I go there when I’m already on campus. It’s just hard to get out of bed in the mornings.”  _ Goddess forgive me for that which I have not done _ . 

“About that, have you noticed any changes to your eating or sleeping since you’ve been feeling at a seven?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

“Not really,” said Marianne. “I don’t have the biggest appetite anyway.” 

“Thank you. Do you often find yourself consciously restricting how much you eat?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“No, I just feel full rather easily,” replied Marianne. She didn’t mention the other part, that since she had given up, most food tasted like rubber cement. 

“Ok, thank you. When you’re studying for your classes, do you find it hard to concentrate or follow what you’re studying?” Dr. Navarro asked.

“Yes, it’s gotten a lot harder lately,” said Marianne.

“How do you see your future?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“I don’t,” said Marianne. “I, I try not to think about it.” 

“Does it scare you?” 

Marianne stared at her lap. “That everything will keep going on like this. That I’ll never feel better. That I’ll never be free of this curse.” 

“Sometimes, when people feel very down and very hopeless about the future, they have thoughts of ending their lives. Have you had any of those thoughts?” asked Dr. Navarro.

Marianne had explained so many times in the past few days. “I was going to hang myself after my appointment with Dr. Casagranda yesterday. I had the noose all set up, but I mentioned the plan to Dr. Casagranda and she referred me here.” 

Dr. Navarro nodded. “And had you attempted suicide before at any time?”

“No, but I’ve thought about it almost every day. I pray that the Goddess will take me to Her,” Marianne confessed. 

“Have you ever done anything to injure yourself on purpose, not intending to end your life?” asked Dr. Navarro.

Marianne was surprised by that question. It had never come up before, despite the short sleeves of her scrubs and rolling up her sleeve for her blood test, but now that it had, she answered. “I have, yes, often. As a penance.”

“What do you do?”

“I cut my arms and legs with a boxcutter,” answered Marianne, keeping her tone level. “Have any of your cuts ever required medical attention?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“No, I never go very deep,” said Marianne. Her fear of needing a ride to the hospital and having to tell Hilda had kept her safe. 

“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” said Dr. Navarro. “Can I ask you a few more questions about your beliefs?” 

“Yes,” said Marianne.

“Great. Do you ever think that thoughts are being put into or taken out of your head?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“No,” said Marianne. 

“Have you ever thought that your thoughts were being broadcast to other people somehow?” 

“No.”

“Have you ever believed that your thoughts and actions were under someone else’s control, that something else was determining everything you do?” 

“I try to live in accordance with the Goddess’s will. Beyond that, no.”

“Have you ever felt like you were being spied on or watched, or that someone was conspiring against you?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

“The Goddess is watching me,” said Marianne, “but not conspiring against me.” 

“Ok, thank you. I have just a few more questions,” said Dr. Navarro. “Do you know if anyone in your family was diagnosed with a mental illness?”

“No,” said Marianne. “I don’t know my extended family at all, and my parents were fine.” 

“Any alcohol use or use of other substances such as marijuana or pills in your family?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” said Marianne. “That’s one of the things the police thought made my parents disappear, but…”

“What about you, do you use alcohol or any other substances?” 

“No,” said Marianne. 

“Alright,” said Dr. Navarro. “Thank you so much for talking to me about all of this. How are you feeling right now? What’s your stress level like?” 

Marianne looked at her, feeling slightly confused. “So, what do you think is wrong with me? Or am I just right about everything, about being cursed?” 

Dr. Navarro smiled. “Oh, do you want to know your diagnoses? I don’t think there’s anything  _ wrong _ with you necessarily, I just think you’re very depressed, and sometimes when people get very depressed for a long time, their thinking gets a little strange. I think that’s what’s happening to you, if that’s what you mean.”

“So you don’t think I’m cursed?” said Marianne.

“I think that you believe you’re cursed because you’ve had some very difficult things happen to you and you’ve been feeling down for such a long time. That isn’t completely abnormal,” said Dr. Navarro.

Marianne wanted to argue, wanted to push back, but she knew it would be no use. She was depressed, yes, she could have told anyone that, but she was cursed too. Instead, Marianne thanked Dr. Navarro, who then took her leave. 

After Dr. Navarro left, Marianne sat at her desk and flipped through her statistics textbook, looking at the graphs. She felt drained and unable to focus, yet she wanted to be doing something. Back when she lived with Margrave Edmund, she’d go to the stables if she felt this way, but here, there were no horses and no space to ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not uploading a chapter yesterday. With the school year starting and other writing projects, I think I'm going to switch to uploading once every other day rather than every day. Sorry!


	11. Bushtit

In the end, Marianne did attend the group on boundaries. She picked up a journal and pen at the nurses’ station beforehand, and she took notes, the same way she would in lectures at school. Ultimately, the message was the same as what Linda had told her that morning: people who don’t enforce their boundaries get walked all over and people who are too strict wind up alone. What you really want is to be somewhere in the middle. The group ended with Marianne feeling like she should have been assigned homework. It felt wrong to just leave, unsure of what to do next to put herself in that aspirational middle. 

* * *

Outside time was scheduled for two thirty. Marianne got to the community room fifteen minutes early, because that was when the art therapy ended, and while she had decided against actually going to art therapy, she wound up being left with nothing better to do than wait around until it was over and she could go into the community room to make herself tea and wait to go outside. She brought her book with her, as Linda had said most people did, in with her to the room as the art therapy session cleaned up. Walking in, she passed the therapist, walking out with a plastic tub full of markers, and saw both Linda and Dimitri among the assorted patients, the former working intently with a ballpoint pen and the latter scrubbing at a marker stain on his table with a paper towel. Dimitri looked up and nodded at Marianne as she walked in and she smiled back. Marianne made herself a cup of tea in the back of the room, and settled down at Linda’s table with her book. She began to read and sipped her tea while she waited to be allowed outside. 

Just before 2:30, one of the therapists, Margot, arrived at the community room. By the time she got there, Marianne was almost done with her chapter. Margot stood in the middle of the room and asked, “is everyone here going outside?” 

“I’m not,” answered Linda. 

“I’m sorry, Linda,” said Margot. 

Marianne glanced at Linda, who turned to Marianne and said, loudly enough for Margot to hear, “they took my shoes. I don’t want to get my socks wet so I won’t go outside until they give me my shoes back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” whispered Marianne back. She did a quick scan of the room and saw that only she and one other patient were wearing shoes. The rest, including Dimitri, were wearing socks. 

“Alright, everyone who’s going out, follow me,” said Margot, and everyone but Linda stood and pushed in their chairs. 

Marianne waved a quick goodbye to Linda and grabbed up her things. She walked with the others out of the community room, and down a hall towards an out of the way door she hadn’t noticed before. Margot swiped her nametag, and held the door open. 

The outside area consisted of a triangular concrete courtyard, perhaps the same size as the community room, surrounded by beds full of shrubbery and tiny trees and walled in by the hospital itself. There were benches on two sides, and on the third, an umbrella over a table and set of deckchairs. The patients took up spaces sitting on a low concrete wall between the patio and the greenery, or on the chairs and benches. A few paced. No one spoke. The sky was overcast, and Marianne wished she had brought a jacket as she settled into a bench in a corner. She looked up at the clouds reflected in the rows of windows stretching out above her. She wondered if the people in those rooms also got to make use of the courtyard or if they were confined to their rooms. Perhaps they envied her. 

As Marianne lowered her gaze to the planters around her, she noticed a familiar pattern of movement and tensed slightly. She focussed her attention towards the plant where she had seen something moving, hoping despite everything. Her hopes were realized. A bird hopping up a thin branch, turning its tiny grey head from side to side. A bushtit. Of course, it was March. Their nesting season. Marianne watched intently as it bounced along sideways. 

One of the pacers came her way, and Marianne instinctively put out a hand to stop them so they didn’t startle the bird. “Sorry,” she mouthed, turning briefly. She saw it was Dimitri, and pointed to the bushtit by way of explanation. She hoped it would be enough for her to continue watching the bird, but she braced herself for disappointment regardless. 

To her surprise, rather than say anything or walk away, Dimitri crouched down to follow her finger. The bushtit had stopped moving and was tugging with its beak at a patch of lichen on the branch. They watched together in silence as the bushtit pulled a piece free and turned its head back around, facing Marianne. After making a movement that almost seemed to be a nod of recognition, the bushtit flew by hops further up the shrub, and eventually took to the air above it, flying up and up, over the walls of the hospital, into the cold grey sky. Marianne realized suddenly that she was smiling, smiling more than she had smiled in months.

“Wow,” breathed Dimitri, standing up. “That was beautiful.”

Marianne nodded, then remembered she could speak now that it was gone. “I wonder what it was doing here.”

“It seemed to be looking for food,” said Dimitri.

Marianne shook her head. “Bushtits are carnivores. They eat insects. That lichen it took was probably for its nest.”

“They’re called bushtits?” Dimitri asked. “It’s amazing you know so much about them.”

“Thank you,” said Marianne. “I’m just confused by why it was here. They build such large nests and there wouldn’t be any space in a flowerbed like these.” 

“There’s a wooded area on the other side of the highway,” said Dimitri. “I can see it from my room. Maybe that’s where it lives.”

“Yes, that sounds about right,” said Marianne. “They build incredible nests. It's such an honor to see one gathering materials for them.”

“An honor, hm,” said Dimitri. “I like that way of thinking about it.” He was silent for a moment, then asked, “What are their nests like? You said they were large?” 

Marianne nodded, glad for the chance to talk about birds. “Yes, they’re shaped kind of like sacks or gourds, with an entrance hole in the side and a roof over the top. They take ages to build, and March and April are when they lay eggs. That one was probably putting the finishing touches on theirs.” 

Dimitri listened earnestly. “So that means that they’re building one of those nests out in the trees somewhere.” 

“Yes, probably,” said Marianne. “Probably on the other side of the highway, like you said.”

“It’s amazing to think about,” said Dimitri.

“There’s so much alive that isn’t like us,” said Marianne. That was really it, what she loved about birdwatching. They were alive and what they did made sense, but they weren’t  _ like us _ . They were different, and that’s what made it so special to see them, living. 

“You’re right,” Dimitri said after a moment. 

Marianne took a sip of her tea. It had gotten cold. “Thank you.” 

“There’re often birds out here. I wish I knew more about them,” said Dimitri. “I guess I can ask you.”

“Please, I don’t know everything,” said Marianne. 

“Oh if you’d rather I not, that’s alright,” said Dimitri, sounding a bit flustered. “I’m sorry for assuming.”

“No, you’re fine,” said Marianne. “You have no need to apologize.”

“Thank you,” said Dimitri.

They stayed there in silence for a few more moments, somewhat embarrassed, before Margot broke the silence. “It’s time to head back,” she said. It was quiet enough in the courtyard that she didn’t have to say it very loud. 

Marianne got up from her bench holding her empty tea cup and book, and she followed Dimitri and the others inside. Already, she was looking forward to going outside again the next day and possibly seeing more birds. Her conversation with Dimitri also stuck in her mind. Despite her timidity about being treated like an expert, it was nice to have what she did know acknowledged. And it was nice to know that there were rooms somewhere in the ward from which one could see the woods.  _ Thank you, Goddess, for your graciousness _ . 


	12. In the Future

After coming back inside, Marianne and Dimitri both attended the group on behavioral activation, which it turned out meant “acting as if you aren’t depressed even though you feel like complete shit.” The therapist running the group claimed that if you act depressed, you’ll just get more depressed, but if you go out and do things anyway, you’ll eventually start to feel better because the things you’re doing will make you happier. It made Marianne think about all the times she’d tried going for walks when she could barely get out of bed and had wound up just wandering aimlessly around the city, waiting to feel reinvigorated, and unable to stop thinking about throwing herself into traffic. “Try doing things that you used to enjoy,” the therapist said, and Marianne remembered the bushtit, but that wouldn’t have happened without the bird itself being near her anyway, and it wouldn’t have been nearly so nice if she wasn’t able to share the moment with Dimitri. It wasn’t just her actions that had given her a nice moment, but the actions of others. Still, Marianne took careful notes. Dimitri sat at the table next to hers, sipping tea and listening intently.

By the time the group was over, the dinners had been delivered. Marianne was surprised they came so early; it was hardly even five o’clock. She wasn’t hungry, but she wanted to finish eating early in case Hilda showed up at 5:30 when visiting hours started. It wouldn’t be unlike Hilda to come later or to flake entirely, but still, Marianne didn’t want to still be eating when Hilda arrived. 

Marianne was tempted to sit by Dimitri, but she worried about being a bother or getting too close. She didn’t want her curse to affect him, not when he needed healing too. Instead, she decided to sit at her own table. With this on her mind, it came as a total surprise when Dimitri approached her table and asked her “May I sit here?”

Marianne’s first thought was to say no and protect him from the curse. Her second thought was that that was rude and she ought to apologize and invite him to join her. What came out of her mouth was, “No, I’m sorry.” 

Dimitri looked confused. “Oh no, I’m sorry,” he said. “I can sit elsewhere.” 

He turned around to look around the room, and Marianne realized with a growing horror that there were no empty seats. She had just been so rude and now they would have to dine together. Marianne could feel her curse sinking its claws into her shoulders.

Dimitri turned back to her. “Um, bye,” he said, and took the tray and left the community room. Through the windows in the community room wall, she watched as he walked down the hall and around a corner. Marianne could’ve cried.

After Dimitri left, Marianne carried the tray back to her room and set it on her desk without taking a bite. She didn’t feel like eating anymore. Then she flopped face first down onto the lumpy, sagging bed, and groaned into her pillow.  _ Goddess, I apologize for whatever I have done to deserve this _ . She really had to apologize to Dimitri, but she also had to explain to him that getting too close to her was dangerous, that she was cursed. She thought about going to find him, but she didn’t know where his room was, and besides, patients weren’t allowed in each other’s rooms. Maybe she could say something the next time they ran into each other? But in the moment, she knew her words wouldn’t be good enough. She would just fall back into being polite, or he’d try to tell her why she was wrong. Thinking the problem over, Marianne decided to write him a letter. 

She got up from the bed and went back over to the desk. After pushing the tray aside, Marianne carefully tore a piece of paper from the notebook she’d been given earlier that day and thought about what to write. When she put her pen to paper, the words flowed easily. 

> Dimitri,
> 
> I’m sorry to have to say this, but I think it would be best if you kept your distance from me in the future. Over the course of my life, I have only brought misfortune to those who are close to me. You too will be met with disaster if you continue to be friendly with me. I wish to keep you safe, and so I would like to ask that you stop associating with me. I truly appreciate your kindness, and I wish you the best.
> 
> Marianne
> 
> Ps. I apologize for being rude to you tonight at dinner. I meant only to protect you. 

After writing the note, Marianne folded it carefully and wrote Dimitri’s name on the paper. She would give it to him the next time she saw him. Then, Dimitri would know to keep his distance, and she could have a clear conscience. Feeling a bit better, Marianne started on her dinner. 

She had only taken a few bites before there was a knock on her door. A nurse opened the door. “Marianne, you have a visitor.”

Marianne put down her spork and, just in case she ran into him in the hall, picked up her note for Dimitri and stuffed it into her pocket. She followed the nurse down the hall back towards the area around the nurses’ station, where Hilda was waiting. 

“Marianne, how  _ are _ you?” asked Hilda as a greeting. Again, she was holding two cups from the hospital Starbucks. She handed one to Marianne. 

“I’m alright,” said Marianne. She took a sip of the tea. 

“No, really, how are you?” Hilda asked again. 

What sort of answer did she expect? “I’m not as scared as I was yesterday. I got to go outside today and I saw a bushtit. I also talked to a psychiatrist.”

“What’s a bushtit?” asked Hilda.

“It’s a kind of bird,” said Marianne. “How did you get here today?”

“Lorenz drove me. He’s been cleaning your room. I think I could probably get him to do our bathroom too if I asked him right,” said Hilda.

The image of the always-regal Lorenz cleaning their disaster of a bathroom made Marianne smile. 

“They’re not treating you badly here, are they?” asked Hilda, suddenly serious again. “Like they’re nice to you. Are the other patients alright?”

Marianne nodded. “I think, so far, everyone’s been nice to me. Nobody’s done anything awful anyway.” She didn’t mention what Linda had told her that morning. She didn’t want to worry Hilda. 

“And it’s like, safe here, right?” Hilda asked.

“Yes, it’s safe,” said Marianne. “Really, nobody here is dangerous at all.”  _ Except for me _ , Marianne thought, but she didn’t say it.

“Are they giving you any medication?” asked Hilda.

“No, not yet,” said Marianne. “I heard that they probably will at some point, but I haven’t had to take anything yet.” 

“I see,” said Hilda. She paused for a moment to take a sip of her coffee, then said, “I think I’m gonna fail data analysis.”

The sudden change in topic confused Marianne. “What?” 

“My data analysis class. I think I’m gonna fail it. We had a test today and I totally forgot to study.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry,” said Marianne. “I’m sure you did better than you think you did.”

“Maybe.” Hilda twirled a strand of her hair in her fingers. “I had no idea what some of the questions were asking me to do.” 

“Do you want me to help you study next time?” asked Marianne. She’d taken a data analysis class the previous semester, and while her grade wasn’t terribly high, it wasn’t disastrous either. 

“I mean, if you’re offering,” said Hilda. “Once you’re out, sure.”

“Of course,” said Marianne. “Though I’ll have some catching up to do too.”

“Oh yeah. Do you want me to talk to your professors for you?” asked Hilda.

“I already called student services, and they said they’d be contacting my professors,” said Marianne. “That’s very kind of you though.”

“Well, when you’re out we can study together,” said Hilda. “I like studying when it’s with you.”

That was a high compliment, coming from Hilda. “Thank you,” said Marianne. 

“Also Claude’s in my ‘wealth and poverty’ discussion section, and I want to ask to join us too. He’s super smart, so he’d probably be a huge help. Would it be ok if I invited him? I mean, after you’re out?” asked Hilda.

Marianne hadn’t seen Claude very often recently, but she had fond memories of him from their freshman year, back when she was certain he and Hilda would get together, something that had never quite happened. Hilda was right: he was smart. Funny too. “Sure,” she said. 

“Great!” said Hilda. “Once you’re home again, we can have Claude over and you can help me with data analysis and he can help me write my wealth and poverty paper. And I, uh, I can look over your work to see if you made any careless mistakes.” 

Marianne ignored Hilda’s thoughtless remark. “That would be nice,” she said. She didn’t dislike school so much as she never quite had the energy for it, but maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to study with Claude and Hilda. 


	13. The Letter

Hilda left some time before visiting hours ended, saying she was exhausted from the ordeal of probably flunking a test. She promised to be back the next day, however, with more caffeinated tea and an answer from Claude about their study session plan. Marianne sipped her tea and watched the nurses unlock the doors so that Hilda could leave. She felt a twinge of envy. Hilda was allowed to go home. Marianne reached into her pocket and felt the letter for Dimitri. He was here by the nurses’ station, but he was deep in conversation with a large redheaded man who looked about her father’s age. If he was Dimitri’s family, she didn’t want to interrupt them. 

Instead, Marianne returned to her room to finish her dinner and wait for community meeting. Marianne’s window gave her a view of the hospital parking lot, but the sky above it was stained with the colors of nasturtium and cotton candy. She hadn’t looked at the sunset very often before, but now it demanded her attention. Marianne watched as the blue of the sky deepend and the orange faded away, her hand on the letter to Dimitri the entire time.  _ Goddess, thank you for this sight _ . And yet, somehow the sunset wasn’t enough. That afternoon, watching the bushtit, half the joy of what she had seen had been sharing the experience with Dimitri. She wanted to watch the sunset with someone. She thought about Dimitri in the windowless nurses’ station atrium and wondered if he knew what he was missing. From the back of her mind came the answer:  _ he’s missing a chance for the curse to deepen, to take him, to hurt him _ . Yes, that was right. She couldn’t let him get close. Anyone who shared the sunset with her would only suffer horribly. And then she’d lose him, the same way she’d lost her parents. It was better for them to stay apart. 

When Marianne turned back to the clock in her room, she saw that it was just after seven. Visiting hours were over; she could give Dimitri her note, put away her tray, and go to the community meeting. Yes, that was what she should do. She had to steel herself, push him away, and keep him safe. 

Before she went, however, Marianne took one last look out the window. The lights over the parking lot were on, but if she looked up, if she tilted her head just right, as if she were lying beneath the window, she could see a few stars just beginning to come out. As the evening went on, there would be more of them, and by the time she went to bed, the sky would be full of them. Marianne paused a moment, tilted her head back again, then went over to the bed. She pulled off the blanket, the pillow, and the sheets, and piled them into a sort of nest underneath the window. There. She’d be able to see the stars that night as she went to sleep, and there was no way this would be more uncomfortable than the mattress. 

Marianne opened the door to walk back towards nurses’ station and the community room, with the letter tucked into her pocket. She stepped out into the hall purposefully, only to come face to face with Dimitri. He was standing outside a closed door labelled “medication room,” leaning against the wall, waiting. When he saw Marianne, he smiled. “Hello,” he said.

“Hello, Dimitri,” said Marianne. She gripped the letter in her pocket. This was her chance. “I, um, I have something for you.”

“Hm?” said Dimitri. He looked so pleased to hear that that Marianne briefly considered forgetting about the letter, forgetting about the curse, and offering her friendship. She bit her tongue.  _ No _ . This was for the best, really.  _ Goddess give me strength _ . 

“I’m sorry about what I said at dinner,” said Marianne. She pulled the folded paper out, and held it out. Dimitri reached out and took it. “I’m sorry,” Marianne said again. She could say it a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. She felt her cheeks getting hot and didn’t want to stay there to see him read it. Instead, Marianne half walked, half ran past Dimitri, on towards the community room.

Once she got there, Marianne put away her tray and sat down at one of the tables with her head in her arms. She’d done it. She’d really done it. She’d told Dimitri to stay away from her. She’d destroyed her chance at having a friend in this place. She could’ve had someone to birdwatch with during outside time or sit with during meals and meetings. At home she had Hilda, and that had been enough, just enough to get by, but here she was alone and just when she’d started making a friend, her stupid fucking curse reared its head and made her ruin everything. And worst of all, she knew he wouldn’t believe her. Dr. Navarro hadn’t believed her. Nobody in the group at Leicester State had believed her. Most people didn’t believe in curses. When Dimitri read her letter, he’d laugh at her. He’d think she was weird. He’d think she was lying to him. He wouldn’t understand, and he wouldn’t want anything to do with a girl who wrote something so  _ weird _ . 

_ Goddess forgive me but it had to be done _ . 

Marianne’s head was still in her arms at the table when the chime rang for community meeting. She sat up when people started coming in, wondering if Dimitri would try to talk to her or if he would just avoid her completely. She wasn’t quite sure which would be the best outcome.

In the end, Dimitri didn’t come to community meeting. There were no rules against missing it. When Marianne had to introduce herself and state her feelings, she said “ashamed.” It was true. All she wanted to do was go to the blanket nest in her room and cry. She sat through to the end, and when it was over, she was the only one to leave instead of staying to discuss what movie they wanted to watch tonight. Marianne hurried back towards her room. She kept her eyes on the floor. Everything was blurry anyway.

“Marianne.”

She looked up. The space in front of the nurses’ station was empty, except for one armchair. In it sat Dimitri. He spoke again. “Marianne, I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly conscious of the nurse behind the desk, Marianne walked over. She stood beside Dimitri’s chair. She wanted to apologize. She wanted to tell him everything she had said was true, and she wanted to tell him to forget it all. She wanted to go back to her room and look at the stars and cry. She wanted to go home. 

“Marianne, I know you told me to stay away from you,” Dimitri said. His face was expressionless, but there was something funny about his voice, and his visible eye was red around the edges. He’d been crying, Marianne realized. “I’m sorry I just wanted to say, I just wanted to tell you that we’re the same. I don’t know very much about you at all, but I can tell that it hasn’t been easy for you, either. And, I’ve also thought that it was all my fault, that everything that happened to people around me was because of something wrong with me. So when I read your note, I felt like I wasn’t alone. I’m sorry that we can’t be friends, that you feel like you’ll hurt me, because I think we might be able to understand each other.” 

Marianne stood there under the fluorescent lights, looking for a sign of dishonesty in Dimitri’s words. He seemed so genuine, even if what he said was unbelievable. That somebody could understand her, could understand what she was going through with her curse, with the weight of her impurity, she couldn’t accept it. But Dimitri had decided that he wanted to. Marianne wanted to tell him that that was more than anyone else had ever done. She wanted to warn him of all the ways she was insufficient, not worth the effort. She wanted to tell him that she was willing to do the same, to try to understand him, to know what he meant when he said that they were the same. Instead, she said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t have to be sorry,” said Dimitri, shaking his head. “I just wanted to tell you I understand, at least I think I might. At least I know it hurts.” 

Marianne nodded. “It does. It hurts to have to tell people to stay away, for their own safety.” 

“I’ll keep my distance from now on,” Dimitri said. “I just want you to know that even if everyone does leave you alone, you won’t really be alone. Because there are other people going through the same things you are. We’re together on this voyage, even if we can’t be friends.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. “Thank you for understanding.” She paused a moment, then decided to say it. “You’re the first person who’s really tried to understand.” 

“It’s lonely, isn’t it?” said Dimitri. 

“Yes,” said Marianne.  _ But it’s worth it if it will keep you safe _ .  _ Maybe it’s enough to just be fellow voyagers _ . “We can be lonely and stay away from each other together.”

Dimitri smiled. “If that’s what would make you feel safe, I’d be glad to.” 

“Thank you,” Marianne said. 

“Of course,” said Dimitri. He stood up. He really was tall, Marianne noticed. “I’m going to go back to my room then, and I’ll avoid you tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight,” said Marianne. 

“Goodnight,” said Dimitri, and they parted ways. 

* * *

Marianne’s blanket nest was, in fact, much more comfortable than the bed. Not as comfortable as her bed at home, of course, but better than what she had here. And she could see the stars from down here. Looking up, she thought back on what Dimitri had said, about not being alone, as long as there was someone else going through what she was going through. She thought about all the people who could see the stars from wherever they were sleeping. Of course Dimitri didn’t understand. Nobody could understand. Marianne was totally alone in her curse, in her guilt and shame. But maybe he could see the stars from his window too. 


	14. Serotonin

The next morning, Marianne woke up with the sunrise. She lay a moment in her blanket nest, assessing. Her back still hurt, but less than it had when she’d slept on the mattress. This had been a good idea. She pulled herself into a sitting position and began her morning prayers. When she came to the line about “the sins of yesterday,” she thought about her conversation with Dimitri and added “May you protect him from me.” When she was done, she stood and went to the bathroom to splash her face with water. 

After washing her face, Marianne glanced in the mirror. She took in the weird pallor of her skin and the dark circles under her eyes as she combed her fingers through her hair. She wished she had a comb. She wished she had her bobby pins so she could do up her braids. Instead, she fashioned it into a single braid down her back. She didn’t bother tying it up into a bun. 

Once Marianne had gotten dressed and slipped on her shoes, she walked out into the hall. It was still early; none of the other patients were out. She walked past the medication room towards the community room to see if her breakfast had arrived. 

Predictably, Marianne was stopped at the nurses’ station for her vitals. She sat in an armchair while the blood pressure cuff tightened around her arm and opened her mouth for the thermometer and waited for it to be over. 

The community room was empty when she arrived. The breakfasts weren’t there yet, but the hot water and tea were always out. Marianne decided to make herself a cup of tea while she waited. It would be decaf, but that was ok. She sat down at a table to drink her tea and wished she’d brought her book. Another patient wandered in, and they nodded at each other as he made himself tea too, before he returned to his room with it.

Eventually, hospital staff rolled in the cart full of breakfast trays. Marianne was going to grab hers when Dimitri walked in. He must have heard the cart coming. Marianne took her tray to her table, and settled down, while Dimitri went to grab his tray. He did exactly what he had promised to do the night before: ignored her. He set his tray on a table on the other side of the room and made himself a cup of tea before settling down with his breakfast. Marianne kept her eyes on her plate as more patients started to drift in. She ate quickly, but Dimitri was faster, apparently. By the time she looked up to check the schedule he had left the room.

The groups for that day were “managing anxiety,” “goals and values,” “process group,” and “networks of support.” Marianne remembered what Linda had said about process group and decided to attend. The others seemed fine; she supposed she would go so she had something to do. Outside time came right after process group ended too, so if it was too much, she’d at least be able to get some fresh air afterwards. 

Her plan for the day set, Marianne walked back towards her room to read for a while before the group on managing anxiety. While she was crossing the nurses’ station, she saw Dr. Navarro walking in through the unit doors. 

“Marianne, just who I was hoping to see,” Dr. Navarro said, smiling. “Give me a moment and I’ll meet you in your room. 

“Oh, thank you,” said Marianne. She headed to her room to wait for the psychiatrist. 

Just as Marianne figured she ought to start reading to pass the time, a knock came at her door and Dr. Navarro entered. “Hello again, Marianne.” 

“Hello,” said Marianne back. 

Dr. Navarro pulled up a chair. “I won’t be here tomorrow, so I wanted to make sure that we took the time to meet today. I saw from your records that you aren’t on any medications. I think that today would be a good time to discuss starting.” 

“Starting medication?” Marianne asked. Her heart began to beat faster. Would the Goddess be ok with that? Medication couldn’t fix her curse, so what was the point? What if it turned her into a zombie? 

“Yes, I think it would be a good idea for you to start taking antidepressants. We can discuss other types of medication too that I think might be useful, but I definitely want to get you started on an SSRI. Do you know anything about that class of antidepressant?” said Dr. Navarro.

Marianne shook her head. 

“SSRI stands for Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor. Serotonin is one of the chemicals your brain makes that makes you feel happy. In a non-depressed brain, brain cells called neurons make and send out a lot of serotonin, so that it can reach these things on a cell called serotonin receptors and make you feel good. But when a person is depressed, the cells that make serotonin soak all the serotonin back up so it doesn’t reach the serotonin receptors. This is called serotonin reuptake. What Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors do is stop the brain cells from soaking up all the serotonin before it reaches the serotonin receptors,” Dr. Navarro explained. “They aren’t happy pills, they just make it possible for your brain to use the happy chemicals it creates naturally.” 

Marianne took a moment to think about what she had just heard. “So you mean that my brain is already making the chemicals that would make me less depressed?” 

“I think so,” said Dr. Navarro. “If not, there are other options we could try, but for most people, SSRIs are the best place to start.” 

“I think,” said Marianne carefully, “That I’m depressed because I’m cursed. Because I can’t get close to people. Not because my brain isn’t reuptaking chemicals.”

Dr. Navarro didn’t try to disagree directly. “You don’t question that you’re cursed at all; you take it as fact.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Of course,” said Marianne. 

“Does your curse get worse when you’re feeling worse?” Dr. Navarro asked. “Does it always work the same way for everyone?”

Marianne thought. Her curse could hurt strangers if they so much as walked in the same building as she did, but Hilda had lived in the same apartment with her for over a year, and had only been cursed after they hugged. She was sitting here with Dr. Navarro, and she wasn’t afraid at all that Dr. Navarro would be cursed, even though talking like this with Dimitri was bound to curse him. “It changes. I don’t know that it’s worse when I’m more depressed, but it isn’t always the same.”

Dr. Navarro nodded. “Sometimes when people are very depressed, their thinking gets a little bit off. That’s why I think that we might want to add a second medication on top of the SSRI, something that could sort of untwist your thinking, make things clearer.” 

“Are there medications that can do that?” Marianne asked. She remembered that sometimes, before finals, Hilda would bum stimulants off of other students on campus. She said it made her better at studying. 

“It’s different for every person, but I think that you might benefit from a class of medication called an atypical antipsychotic. They’re often used to treat disorders like bipolar disorder or schizophrenia, but they can be helpful for people with depression who have some problems with their thoughts too,” said Dr. Navarro. “These medications come with a higher risk of side effects than the SSRIs do, but I think that for you, the benefits might outweigh the risks.”

“They’ll change my thinking,” said Marianne. She didn’t want this. What if she forgot about her curse completely and became careless? What if she stopped believing in the Goddess? 

“They’ll make your thinking clearer, and less influenced by your depression. Right now, your depression is controlling how you think about yourself and your curse. If we address your depression and untwist it from your thoughts, then you’ll be able to see the reality of your situation more clearly,” said Dr. Navarro.

“And that’s what this medication is supposed to do?” asked Marianne. 

“That’s right,” said Dr. Navarro. “Still, there are some side effects you should know about. SSRIs can cause headaches or digestive problems. They can also give you dry mouth. And we’ll want to know right away if you start feeling agitated or really ‘up’ all of the sudden, or if your suicidal ideation suddenly gets worse.”

“They can do that?” asked Marianne.

“Yes, for some people. It’s rare, but it does happen that these drugs can make suicidal ideation worse. Also if you have bipolar disorder, they can cause a manic episode, so we’ll definitely be monitoring for that,” said Dr. Navarro. “If you can’t tolerate the side effects, we’ll reassess your medication.” 

“Ok,” said Marianne. She still had one more question, but Dr. Navarro kept talking.

“The atypical antipsychotic side effects are a bit more serious. There can be things like weight gain or muscle stiffness, and we’ll need to take a blood test every few months to make sure that your blood sugars stay down. We already took your pre-medication blood sugars, and that looks good, but we’ll want to keep an eye on them. These medications can also cause drowsiness, so you’ll want to take it in the evening. Of course, since you’re in the hospital it’ll be easy enough to monitor.”

“Um, Dr. Navarro,” said Marianne.

“Yes?”

“If it’s the Goddess’s will for me to be cursed and suffer, wouldn’t it be wrong for me to stop being unhappy?” Marianne asked.

Dr. Navarro was quiet for a moment. “I think, Marianne, that perhaps your depression is affecting the way you see the Goddess. I can tell that you’re a true believer and that you want to be close to the Goddess, but if you can only see her as a punishing figure who wants you to suffer, then are you seeing the whole Goddess, as everything that she can be? Maybe if you start to feel better, you can see the Goddess in a more complete way.”

Marianne felt a twinge of shame. Of course. She wasn’t appreciating the Goddess enough. Her love for the Goddess wasn’t truly genuine.  _ Goddess forgive me this transgression _ . “That...is a new way of looking at it. Thank you,” she said. 

“Of course. Tonight, after community meeting, you’ll want to stop by the medication room for your first dose of the atypical antipsychotic, and then tomorrow after breakfast, come back for your SSRI. Just show them your wristband, so they’ll know they have the right patient,” said Dr. Navarro.

“Thank you,” said Marianne. 

Dr. Navarro stood up, smiling. “Alright, I’m glad we could get that decided. I’ll go get your medication entered in your chart, and I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“Goodbye,” said Marianne. So she’d still be here Monday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make the descriptions of the medications both in character for a psychiatrist talking to a new patient and accurate, so be warned that this isn't a full explanation of how SSRIs or atypical antipsychotics work. Also I didn't name particular medications on purpose, so sorry if that made the writing clunky.


	15. Process group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is one of the more OC heavy chapters, but it has some Dimitri backstory in it.

By the time Dr. Navarro left, the group on managing anxiety was well underway, so Marianne took the opportunity to explore the ward instead. It seemed to be shaped like a giant letter “D,” with the nurses’ station at the curve, the community room at the top, the hallway with Marianne’s room and the medication room at the bottom, and another straight hallway of bedrooms at the back. It was possible to do a loop around the entire ward, starting at the nurses’ station, heading right past the community room, around the back hallway with its closed doors and bookshelves, and back around past the medication room back to the nurses’ station. Marianne took the loop again. And again. It took her three minutes. She went back to her room to read her statistics textbook. 

* * *

“Goals and values” was, in a word, fine. Everyone was handed a packet of paper listing values. There were five pages. The patients were supposed to read the list of values and circle the ones they cared about. Then from those, they were supposed to pick five to write down goals that would help them live according to those values. Marianne read the whole packet, but she couldn’t find “not being a bother to anyone” listed anywhere in it. Instead, she picked “kindness,” “faith,” “integrity,” “contribution,” and “nature.” If anyone needed help picking goals, they were supposed to be able to ask the group for advice, but Marianne kept her goals to herself. She would give to charity, she would always be courteous to everyone, she would take her medication, she would pray at least twice daily, she would try to talk to Hilda about taking public transportation more and vote for candidates with decent environmental policy, and she would pay special attention in her environmental science classes. The problem was that, with the exception of taking medication, that was what she already had been doing, and where had it landed her? 

* * *

The next group was the process group. Linda had warned Marianne about that one, told her that it could be intense. Still, Marianne was curious. She thought back on Dimitri’s words from the day before, saying that she wasn’t alone because he understood her suffering. If that was true, then wouldn’t she be less alone if she attended this group and came to understand everyone else’s hardships?  _ And it would make what I shared with Dimitri less special _ , Marianne thought,  _ if I felt the same kind of connection to everyone else here _ . And so Marianne stayed in the community room, waiting for the process group to begin. 

A few of the attendees from the “goals and values” group got up and left, but most stayed, including Dimitri and Linda. A chime rang in the hall, signaling the beginning of a group, and the facilitating therapist entered, an older woman with waist-length wavy grey hair. “Hello everyone,” she said as she walked through the door. “Would you folks mind pushing aside the tables and getting the chairs in a circle?” 

Everyone got up to help, including Marianne, pushing tables and chairs around the room. She noticed Dimitri lifting a whole table with one arm and casually carrying it to the back of the room. Eventually once all the room’s chairs were in a large circle around the perimeter and the tables clustered in the back, all the patients in the room settled into their seats. There were about seven of them, Marianne counted, not including the therapist. 

The therapist spoke again. “I’m Evelyn, and I want to make a couple of announcements before we begin. This is process group, which means that it’s a space for you all to process your journeys together. It isn’t a structured class, like the other groups, but more of a free flowing conversation. Because we want you all to be able to talk freely, we’re putting on hold our guidelines about discussing potentially triggering topics. While we’d still prefer that you not go into detail about potentially contagious problem behaviors, such as eating disorders, suicide attempts, or self harm, you’re allowed to bring them up as they pertain to your path to recovery. If these types of conversations may harm you, you’re free to leave now, but I’d like to ask that once we close the door, everyone stay in here together for the entire hour.” 

Marianne glanced nervously around the room. Nobody got up. 

Evelyn continued. “To begin, let’s go in a circle and say our names and what brought us to the GMMC behavioral health unit.” 

Everyone looked at each other nervously, wondering who’d be brave enough to volunteer to start them off. To Marianne’s surprise, it was Dimitri who spoke first. “I’m Dimitri, and I’m here because I’ve been having a psychotic episode.”

The man to Dimitri’s right spoke next. “I’m Evan, and I survived a suicide attempt.” 

“I’m Linda, and I also survived a suicide attempt.” 

“I’m Kaitlyn, and I’ve been dealing with self harm and an eating disorder.”

“I’m Denice, and I’ve been struggling with depression and self harm.” 

“I’m Michael, and I’ve been having suicidal ideation.” 

It was Marianne’s turn. She took a deep breath. “I’m Marianne, and I also have suicidal ideation and was self harming.” 

“I’m Camila, and I was having a manic episode, but I’m going home today.”

For a while nobody spoke. Everything that they had said hung in the air between them. Marianne barely knew a thing about anyone here, even about Dimitri and Linda, but she knew that for all of them, the outside world had been painful, unbearably so. She knew how everyone was hurt, and they all knew how she was hurt, and it was their hurt that had brought them together.

Finally Evan broke the silence. “I’m worried about my son. He just turned five two weeks ago -- I promised myself I wouldn’t ruin his birthday for him by dying. I held out as long as I could for him, but I hurt him anyway. He’s too young to understand why the ambulance took his daddy away, and I feel like a terrible father for putting him in this position. Even though I lived, he has to go through the trauma of having his dad suddenly gone.” 

_ How terrible _ , thought Marianne. 

“I can’t know exactly how your son is thinking about all of this right now,” Dimitri said, “But I know that it’s better for him that you’re here, alive, and going to go home again, rather than gone forever. I lost my father when I was thirteen, and I would much rather he have had to spend a while in the hospital rather than have him be dead.”

Evan nodded. “I suppose you’re right that it’s better for him that I’m here rather than me being dead, but I just wish I weren’t the kind of person where those weren’t the only options.” 

“I think sometimes about the options I’ve closed off for myself, but the important thing is to just keep moving forward,” said Camila. “Like, when I quit my job impulsively last month, I closed off all the options I would have had if I had stayed with the firm, but at the same time, I opened up a bunch of other options for myself to explore. You gotta reframe it all as something positive.”

“How, though?” asked Evan. “I really can’t think of anything positive about being suicidally depressed.”

“I feel like being here has helped me a lot,” said Denise. “I’m in contact with a social worker now and I feel like I have a better sense of what’s in my control and what isn’t. Maybe your time here will help you figure out how to build a healthier lifestyle or relationships.” 

“That’s good,” said Evan. “I guess I’m on a different medication now, which might work for me. Still, who knows. Maybe being here is for the best.”

“‘Who knows’ is still a step up from ‘it won’t work,’” said Camila. 

“The real work comes when you leave,” said Linda. “When you go home, you have to really make changes in your life for things to actually improve. This is my third time here and my sixth hospitalization, and every time, I’ve been ok for a while, then fallen apart again.” 

Marianne thought back to the goals part of the “goals and values” group and felt a knot in her stomach. 

Evelyn spoke for the first time since introductions. “I’d like to add that the outpatient behavioral health department here offers weekly groups, and we like to try to get people set up with therapy and social services for when they go home. This is something you all should bring up with your individual psychiatrist.” 

Dimitri nodded. “My big concerns coming in were, well, I’d been living on the streets and in shelters for years after my first episode, when I decided I couldn’t stay in the house I’d inherited because I kept hearing voices there, and I pushed away pretty much everyone I knew, so I wanted to get back in touch with people and see if there was anyone else I could live with so I wouldn’t be alone or have to navigate the housing system. I finally talked to my psychiatrist about getting that stuff figured out yesterday.”

Linda sighed. “Yeah, you have to be so proactive about treatment. You have to be the one to bring up what’s going on, to really apply the groups to your life, to keep going to therapy after you go home, to live a healthier lifestyle. The problem is that when you’re depressed, you have no motivation to do any of that. It all feels pointless.”

“That’s what they were talking about in the behavioral activation group yesterday.” It was Kaitlyn. “You take what energy you have and put it towards things that will make you feel better in the long run.”

Marianne hadn’t thought about “behavioral activation” that way. It made more sense how Kaitlyn said it than the way the therapist had.

“But what if you don’t have that energy in the first place?” said Linda. 

“You just survive. Because someday things are going to turn around, or you’ll have some good luck or someone will reach out to help you, and you’ll have a good moment or even a good day, and then you can put that to use,” said Dimitri. “That’s how it was for me.” 

Listening to him talk, Marianne remembered how he had said they were the same. His story of homelessness, of having a psychotic episode and losing all his friends sounded so bleak. Far bleaker than her life. She had had it so easy by comparison. It was her who deserved to have nothing, to have no one, to suffer like that. 

And yet he had said they were similar, fellow voyagers. Marianne felt a sudden warmth towards everyone in that room. They were all fellow voyagers, travelling a hard road, stopping here for a time before continuing on. And for just a moment, Marianne understood that she was no better or worse than any of them. 


	16. Free Will

It was raining, but Marianne went outside anyway when the time came. She brought her jacket with her and pulled up the hood. Being stuck in such a small space all day was starting to wear on her. She felt cramped. The outside courtyard was tiny and walled in, but it was a vast improvement over fluorescent lights, low ceilings, and linoleum tiles. The benches were wet with rain, so she didn’t sit down this time. Instead she read standing up, bowing her head over her book to protect the pages. 

Only a few other patients were out there with her. Marianne felt sad for the others, having to wear socks outside in the rain. Among them was Dimitri. He paced back and forth in his damp hospital socks from one end of the patio to the other, never looking her way. Michael and Kaitlyn had claimed the chairs under the umbrella and were reading books from the ward’s little library, and Denice had asked to go back inside after just a few minutes. 

Despite the rain and the loneliness, Marianne was glad for the fresh air. The smell of damp earth and the sight of green things refreshed her, made her feel more real.  _ Goddess, thank you for this world you have made _ . It wasn’t enough to make life worth the pain of living it, but it was enough to make her smile. 

Just when the wet and cold had become tiresome and difficult to bear, it was time to go back inside. Marianne was grateful for the chance to take off her wet coat and to warm herself up with a cup of tea. Her feet were damp too through her thin shoes; she couldn’t imagine how much worse it was for the others, who had gone out in only socks. Still, the cramped feeling remained. 

* * *

The final group of the day was on “networks of support,” which meant talking to family and friends about how they could best support her. Family was out of the question; Marianne would not be talking to her adoptive father about anything that was happening. She was sure if he found out why she was in the hospital, he’d be even more ashamed of her than he was already. That left friends, which meant, in Marianne’s case, Hilda. It seemed that getting Hilda to understand what Marianne was going through would be a long list of things to do: learning more about her own mental illness, bringing Hilda in for her discharge meeting, answering Hilda’s questions, disproving stereotypes, referring Hilda to agencies that specialized in mental health education. In a way, Marianne was grateful she only had one person she had to confirm as her support system. It meant less work. Still, she supposed it was important. She thought also of Claude, of their plan to study together after she went home. In a strange way, it made her want to live, at least long enough for the three of them to get together. It could be like freshman year again, when the three of them and Lorenz had all read each other’s essays or crammed for tests in the dorm common rooms and ordered pizza. Before Marianne had realized how unsafe it was for them to be around her and stopped going. 

Dimitri was also in that group, and was very engaged, taking notes and occasionally raising his hand to ask questions. Marianne thought of what he had said earlier in the process group about trying to reconnect with his friends, and wished him well. 

* * *

After dinner, Hilda came again. As before, she brought chai for Marianne, but this time, she had brought red roses in a paper cup too. “They’re from Lorenz,” she explained. “He’s really concerned about you, you know.”

“That’s so kind of him,” said Marianne. She felt bad for letting Hilda lie about why she was in the hospital, especially now that he had brought her flowers. Would her curse begin to affect him now?

“I know, right? He’s sweet,” said Hilda. “They were originally in glass, but they made me switch out the vases before I came in. Also Claude says hi and is totally down to study with us. So, how are you?” 

“I’m alright,” said Marianne. She thought carefully about what to say next. “There was a group today on how to talk to our friends about us being here. They said the people I live with are going to have to come in for a meeting before I can be discharged.”

“You mean me?” asked Hilda.

_ Goddess give me strength _ . Marianne nodded. 

“Alright, I guess, just let me know when that is. It can’t be when I have class, and I’ll have to get a ride,” said Hilda. 

“I’m sorry,” Marianne said.

“No, no it’s fine, I’ll just have to figure it out I guess,” said Hilda, and Marianne felt a knot in her stomach. She hated asking people to do things for her. 

“I’m sorry,” Marianne said again.

“No really, it’s fine. When are you getting discharged anyway? Can’t they only hold you for 72 hours?” 

“That’s for holds. I’m here of my own free will. It’s just that if I leave and they don’t think I’ll be ok, then they might put me under a hold. So I’ll be staying here until they think I’m well enough that I won’t harm myself if I go home,” Marianne explained. 

Hilda raised her eyebrows. “That doesn’t sound like your own free will to me.”

It really didn’t to Marianne either. “I’m sorry I don’t know when I’m getting discharged.” 

“No that’s ok,” said Hilda. “You focus on getting better, alright? Just let me know when I have to go to this meeting thing.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. She wanted to say the rest of it, that Hilda and her having plans to study with Claude made her want to live at least long enough for them all to see each other, but she didn’t want to place the burden of her desire to live on Hilda. So she settled for “thank you.” 

* * *

Community meeting that night was unexceptional. Marianne had by this point nearly memorized the scripts used, so she spent the time thinking rather than listening to the rules. To go home, she had to get Hilda to her discharge meeting. She really had to get better at asking people for things, at asking Hilda for things in particular. She had to get better. And to do that, she had to understand what was wrong with her. The group that day on support networks had been clear on the point that it was important that “support people” be educated about mental illness. Marianne knew Hilda well enough to know that she wouldn’t do any research on her own. So instead, Marianne was going to have to teach her about depression, and about the so-called “strange thoughts” she’d been having. In order to do that, Marianne would have to learn about depression herself. 

After the end of the meeting, Marianne left the community room and, rather than return to her own room, walked into the other hallway, the one with the bookshelves. She had passed by them earlier that day, on her walks around the unit. There were several pulp novels, mostly mystery and thriller, but there were also self help books and informational books on mental health. Those were the books that Marianne was after. Something she could use to educate herself so she could educate Hilda. She crouched down to look at the spines. “Lost in the Mirror,” “The Happiness Workbook,” “Obsessed,” “How to Have a Good Day,” “The Noonday Demon.” Marianne had no idea where to start. She pulled “Lost in the Mirror” off the shelf and began to read over the back. It wasn’t about depression but about a different disorder entirely. She sighed and put it back, then moved on to the next book. 

“Oh, Marianne, there you are.” Marianne looked up to see Irene the CNA standing over her. 

“I’m sorry, is everything alright?” asked Marianne. 

“Oh yes, everything’s fine, it’s just time for you to take your evening medication,” said Irene. 

“My evening medication?” Marianne asked, then she remembered. The atypical antipsychotic was supposed to make her drowsy, so she had to take it in the evening. She didn’t want to feel like going to sleep just yet; she wanted to keep looking through the books, but it was clear what Irene was there for. 

“Yes, you should’ve talked about it with your psychiatrist today. I’ll walk you to the medication room and show you how to take it,” said Irene. 

Marianne stood up. She supposed she had no choice. She followed Irene down the hall to the medication room. It was a small room about the size of a bathroom. Most of the space was taken up by a table and two chairs. On the far wall was a window behind which sat a nurse at a computer. 

“I’ve got Marianne von Edmund here for evening medication,” said Irene when they arrived. 

The nurse opened the window. “Alright, Marianne, come up to the window and I’ll scan your wristband, then we’ll get your meds to you.”

Marianne walked up to the window and held out her arm. The nurse scanned the barcode, then looked at the computer. “Ok, one five milligram tablet tonight. Have you been hearing any voices?”

Marianne wondered why she was being asked. “No, sorry,” she answered. 

“Ok, good. Well, here’s your medication.” The nurse placed a tiny light blue tablet into a little paper cup. He then poured water into a second paper cup and handed both cups to Marianne. “I have to watch you take it. Just sit down at the table right there and take your pill.” 

Marianne did as she was told and took the pill. She felt no different afterwards. She supposed it would take time to work. “Um, I’m sorry but am I allowed to go?” she asked.

“Of course,” said Irene. “Go enjoy the rest of your evening.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. She left and headed back to the bookshelves. 


	17. Restless

That night, Marianne was exhausted by the time she got into her blanket nest under the window. It was late, and she’d spent ages combing through the bookshelves at the back of the ward, before settling on “The Noonday Demon.” She’d started to read it, but had gotten tired, and so she decided to sleep instead. 

But Marianne couldn’t get comfortable. She had to shake her leg. She had to sit up. She had to go to the bathroom. She turned over. She turned over again. She was exhausted, why couldn’t she sleep? All she wanted to do was sleep but she had to keep moving. She was shaking, tossing in her blanket nest. It was impossible to sleep. It was different from when she was too anxious about being watched to sleep. This was more physical. It was as if her mind wanted sleep but her body was what refused.

And so Marianne stood up. At first she thought that going to the bathroom would solve it, but even after that, when she lay back down, she couldn’t stop rocking back and forth. She had to stand up again, and began pacing in circles around the room. The clock on the wall read 12:13. She didn’t understand what was happening to her. All she could do was keep walking around her room in the dark. 

Suddenly, the room began to feel like it was suffocating her. She had to get out. She had to go somewhere. She had to go for a walk. She was so tired, but her body was demanding she move, move, go.  _ Goddess, help me please _ . Marianne opened the door and walked out into the hall. The lights were still on in the hall. She walked down the hall towards the nurses’ station. 

“Hello, Marianne. What’s going on?” asked the nurse behind the desk when she got there. 

“I’m sorry, I just have to take a walk,” she said. 

“Is it that you can’t sleep?” asked the nurse. 

“Not really, I just feel like taking a walk. Sorry,” said Marianne. It was impossible to describe the feeling, so she didn’t even want to try. 

“Ok, well you can walk around the unit. Try not to wake anybody up,” said the nurse. 

“Thank you,” Marianne said. What had she expected? That she’d be allowed to go outside? It was night and it was still raining. All she would’ve been able to do out there was pace the way Dimitri did. 

So instead, Marianne began walking around the ward. She did one loop, passing by the community room, the hallway full of bookshelves, her own hallway, and the nurses’ station again. She kept her gaze fixed ahead and walked quickly. She did another loop. There was someone by the bookshelves now, sitting in front of them the way she had earlier.  _ Goddess, why is this happening to me _ ? She walked again past the nurses’ station and the community room. The community room was dark, and no one was there. She walked again past the bookshelves, past the person searching them and onward down the hallway, past her room, past the nurses’ station again. She was exhausted but she had to keep going, keep on walking. She did a fourth loop, and then a fifth.

It was when she passed the bookshelves again for the sixth time that she collapsed, into one of the armchairs rather than onto the floor. It was emotional rather than physical exhaustion that got her; her body was straining to go on, to keep moving, but Marianne could no longer stand it. She was terrified of the loss of control, of the way her body seemed to be leading the charge. She wanted to go to sleep. She wanted this to stop. Even in the chair, she found herself bouncing her legs up and down. 

“Marianne, is everything alright?” asked someone. She turned and saw Dimitri standing near her chair, holding a book. “You’ve been by so many times.”

Marianne looked up at him and shook her head miserably. “I’m sorry.” 

“What’s wrong? Do you want me to get a nurse?” asked Dimitri

“No, I already talked to one of the nurses. I just can’t sleep. I feel like I have to keep walking or moving, but there’s nowhere else to walk,” Marianne explained. 

“Did you start taking a new medication tonight? An antipsychotic?” Dimitri asked.

Marianne looked at him. How did he know? “Um, yes, I did.” 

“I had this happen to me once; I went off my meds because of it. You feel like you can’t stop moving, and you can’t sleep or sit still. It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, yes, it is,” said Marianne. “I just want to sleep, but I have to keep walking.” She stood up, then took a deep breath. She was going to say it. “If you would like, you can walk with me?”

Dimitri smiled. “I would like that very much,” he said. “I’m actually trying to find ways to avoid sleeping tonight.”

“Um, why is that?” asked Marianne. The two set off down the hall together. 

“Last night I had a nightmare. A really terrible one, the kind that left me rattled for the whole day today. I don’t want to have another one, so I was looking for a book I could spend the night reading. Preferably one that would color my dreams when I did drift off.”

“Oh. I’m sorry about your nightmare,” Marianne said. 

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. “It’s funny; I’ve been having them less frequently since I was told they were because of PTSD. Someone saying that it was normal to have nightmares, ok to have nightmares, made them less frequent. But they still happen.” 

Marianne nodded. “I’m glad they’re less frequent for you,” she said. 

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. They passed the nurses’ station and turned towards the community room. “I saw my dad killed when I was thirteen, but nobody thought to diagnose me with PTSD until I arrived here last week. Everyone was so focussed on the voice hearing and the mania that it’s like they forgot that even happened at all. But I can’t forget.” 

“No,” said Marianne. “It’s impossible to forget when something so terrible happens. It becomes part of you.”

Dimitri looked at her. 

“I lost my parents too,” said Marianne. “I still don’t know if something happened to them or if they abandoned me, but I can’t help but feel that either way, it’s my fault.” 

Dimitri was quiet for a moment. “Is that what you meant about misfortune when you wrote me that letter?”

Marianne thought.  _ Was it _ ? “I, I don’t know. But it seems that the dreadful things that happen just keep piling on, to everyone around me. The world is such a dark place, Dimitri. I’m sure you’ve seen it too.” 

Dimitri nodded. “It can be. It can be very cruel and very miserable.”

“I think,” said Marianne, “you’re the first person to not tell me to cheer up, or that I’m wrong or strange for thinking that way.” 

Dimitri continued. “I think that life can be painful, so painful it’s almost unbearable, but you have to bear it. Because there is something there that means something. And little by little, we can chip away at the darkness of the world, and build something that makes living worth it. I don’t want to give up on life, Marianne. I believe there’s a reason to keep going, even through the worst of it.”

Marianne thought about Dimitri’s “worst of it.” He had lived on the streets. As a child, he had seen his father die in front of him. He heard voices and had horrible nightmares that made him afraid to sleep. Something had happened to his right eye. He paced outside in the rain in hospital socks. But he was telling her that it all could be endured. Not only that, but that there was a reason to endure it, that it was worth enduring. He wasn’t asking her to pity him or to be inspired by him. He was simply being kind to her. “Thank you, Dimitri,” she said. 

“Of course,” he said. “I’m just saying how I feel.” 

They walked back around the nurses’ station, towards the community room again. “Do you have something you want to do? Something that makes you want to bear it?” asked Marianne. She thought about her plans to study with Claude and Hilda, and they felt so small. 

Dimitri frowned. “Yes,” he said. “There’s something I have to do, but I believe in that in a larger sense too. It isn’t just that I have to make amends with someone, it’s that every person has the potential to leave the world a little less painful than it is now. That’s a reason to live.”

“I see,” said Marianne. “I also have something small that I’m looking forward to, but I don’t know what to do after that. I want to do good in the world, but for so long I thought the best I could do for the world was to remove myself from it.” She was aware that she was breaking the rule against discussing potentially triggering subjects, but they were away from the nurses’ station now, walking past the bookshelves. 

“It’s hard, feeling that way, that you’re too far gone to do anything good. But I promise you, your life is still worth something,” said Dimitri. 

“Yours is too,” said Marianne. “Right now, you’re doing something very kind by talking with me when I’m so restless.” 

“I’m glad,” said Dimitri. “And I’m glad to have met someone who understands.” 

They walked another loop of the ward in silence. Marianne, too, was glad to have met someone who understood. Not just the desperate restlessness she felt, but the feeling of the world being so unbearably cruel. Someone who understood and had made peace with that fact. Someone who was going to do something about it. Someone who had seen the kind of cruelty that life had to offer and had come out willing to be kind. 

Marianne yawned. The clock at the nurses’ station read 1:30. 

“Marianne, would you like some tea? We can make tea and then ask if they can give you something to help you sleep,” said Dimitri. 

“Do you want tea, Dimitri?” asked Marianne. 

“To be honest, yes, I do,” Dimitri said, sheepishly. “It sometimes helps me relax, so I was wondering if it was the same for you.”

“Thank you,” said Marianne. They rounded the corner again and arrived at the nurses’ station. 

“Excuse me,” said Dimitri, walking up to the desk, “But we were wondering if you’d mind unlocking the community room so we could make tea?” 

“Of course,” said the nurse behind the desk. She came around the side of the desk to unlock the door. “Having trouble sleeping?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Marianne. “I, um, I feel very restless. I can’t lie down still.” It was easier to ask with Dimitri there beside her, someone else who had experienced the same thing. 

“You just started medication tonight, right?” asked the nurse. 

“Yes,” said Marianne. Was this sort of problem a well known thing?

“Alright, well, see if drinking the tea and relaxing a bit helps. If it doesn’t, come back out and we can get you a beta blocker to help you sleep,” said the nurse. 

“Thank you very much,” said Marianne. 

“Of course, that’s what we’re here for,” said the nurse. She flicked on the lights in the community room and returned to the nurses’ station.

Marianne and Dimitri walked into the room together and went over to the hot water machine. Marianne got two paper cups, and Dimitri reached into the drawer and pulled out two teabags. Chamomile. They each made their own cup of tea and sat down at a table to drink it. 

“Thank you for suggesting tea,” said Marianne. “It’s very good.” 

“Of course,” said Dimitri. He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Thank you for talking to me tonight.” 

“Thank you for talking to me too,” said Marianne. 

“No, really, thank you. It gave me a chance to work out some things I’ve been thinking about. It was less than a month ago that I was on the run from my delusions, despite my inheritance, and unable to get any respite from the voices. A former teacher from my high school ran into me, contacted an old family friend of mine who let me live with him for a while until my behavior scared him enough that he called the cops on me and had me taken to Fhirdiad General. Then I got transferred here and got started on medication that actually helps and I’m on the path to reconnecting with the people I used to know. My life has changed so much, and I didn’t understand why or what it meant. Being able to talk to you helped me articulate it, so thank you,” Dimitri said. 

“Dimitri, I think that by talking like this, we’ve been able to help each other. You thanking me and me thanking you: we’re both right,” said Marianne. “Maybe just talking to each other helps both of us.” 

Dimitri smiled. “And I’m so glad that it does, Marianne.” 

Marianne’s leg was bouncing and it was almost two in the morning and she was so tired she thought she might pass out there at the table and she wanted to go home to her own bed, but in that moment, Marianne was grateful that she’d found a friend. 


	18. The Ask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update; my state is on fire.

The next morning, Marianne was awoken at 7:15 by a knock on her door. “Just checking,” called a nurse. Marianne pulled her blankets over her face and let out a groan despite herself. While the medication the night shift nurse called a beta blocker had allowed her to finally settle down and go to sleep, she wished she’d been able to sleep in. Besides, the medication hadn’t had time to completely wear off, so she was still groggy and slow. Marianne lay there on the floor for a while, her eyes closed tightly against the morning light. 

Eventually another nurse knocked at the door, and Marianne pushed herself into a sitting position. This time, Marianne answered the familiar “just checking” with a “thank you.” Then she flopped over again. After lying like this for a short while, she got up again, said her morning prayer, and walked into the bathroom. 

The previous night, she’d been so tired she’d slept in her braid. Marianne often slept in her braids at home, lacking the energy to take them out and do them back up. If she kept the braid, it would be no different from what she usually did at home. Somehow, that thought created a knot in her stomach. She didn’t want things to be the same as they had been. She didn’t want to feel the way she had when she’d been ready to kill herself. So Marianne untied her braid. She ran her fingers through her hair, then braided it again. There. Her braid was neat now. It was 8:00.

By the time Marianne reached the community room, breakfast was in full swing. Marianne made herself a cup of tea, then went to grab her tray. She scanned the room, and saw Dimitri waving to her. She went to join him. 

“Did you end up getting any sleep?” he asked her. 

“Yes, thank you very much. Did you?” she answered.

“I did. I had another nightmare though,” Dimitri said. 

“Oh. I’m sorry,” said Marianne. 

Dimitri shrugged. “It’s alright. It wasn’t as bad as the night before.” 

“I’m glad.” 

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. “Are you still feeling jittery?” he asked.

“No, the beta blocker seems to have worked,” said Marianne.

“That’s good. It’s an awful feeling, isn’t it?” asked Dimitri. 

“Yes. You said you’ve had it before?” asked Marianne. 

“Yes, I have,” said Dimitri. “Back when I was eighteen, I had my first psychotic episode, and I was prescribed medication for it that gave me the worst akathisia--that’s the technical name for that feeling--so I stopped taking it.” 

“Oh,” said Marianne. 

“That’s when things really got bad,” said Dimitri. “I had inherited my parents’ old house, the house I grew up in, and I was living there alone because I’d just come of age, and my stepsister was away at college. I had already been hearing voices, but after I came off the meds, I was convinced they were in the house with me, and that my stepsister was plotting to kill me. I tried to stay at my friends Ingrid’s and Sylvain’s houses for a while, but then I thought the ghosts who were haunting me had been following me even there, so I left to keep them safe and lived on my own, wandering around the city.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Marianne. There was something in his story that felt familiar to her. Leaving friends for their own safety was something she knew well. “I, I never went through anything like that, but I also have people I had to stay away from to keep them safe.” 

“You do?” asked Dimitri.

“Yes,” said Marianne. “Like I said in my letter to you, I bring misfortune to anyone who gets too close to me. You’re risking a great deal by talking to me, you know. I had friends I had to stop seeing so that they wouldn’t be harmed.” 

“Marianne,” said Dimitri. “One thing that I learned from all of this, is that the ghosts I was so afraid of live inside of me, not out in the world. The harm they did to my friends is when I lashed out at them. They can’t act without me acting first. I’m sure your curse works the same way; the worst thing it did to your old friends was that it took you away from them.” 

Marianne thought of the roses from Lorenz in the cup in her room, of her plans to study with Claude, of how Hilda had asked for a hug and how she had told her no. They cared about her. Regardless of good sense and their own safety, Hilda, Claude, and Lorenz still wanted her around. And her curse truly had nearly taken her from them forever. “Maybe so,” Marianne conceded. “Still, I’m afraid of hurting them.”

“Of course you are,” said Dimitri. “You’re a kind person.”

Marianne thought of something. “Dimitri, you said you were on different medications now. Do those also make you restless?” 

Dimitri shook his head. “No, those ones don’t for some reason. I just have to be careful about what I eat while I’m on them. You should probably talk to your psychiatrist about changing out your medications. If I had done that instead of just going off of them, my life would probably be a lot different.” 

“My psychiatrist won’t be here today,” said Marianne. 

“Then you should ask the nurses. They can’t change what medication you’re on, but they can maybe set you up to talk to a different doctor,” said Dimitri. “You shouldn’t have to just suffer through akathisia at night.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. She took a bite of her cereal. “I’m not very good at talking to people though. I don’t know if it would come out right at all.”

“We’re talking right now, and you’re doing fine,” said Dimitri. 

“Thank you, but I don’t feel afraid of you,” said Marianne. 

“And the nurses are scary, aren’t they?” said Dimitri. 

Marianne nodded. “Yes, yes they are. They can put me under a hold or restrain me or send me to Fhirdiad General.” Too late she remembered that Dimitri had been at Fhirdiad General. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean...”

“No, that’s understandable,” said Dimitri. “It’s scary, being at somebody else’s mercy.” 

“Yes,” said Marianne.

“If you want, I can ask for you,” suggested Dimitri. “You’ll have to explain things to the psychiatrist yourself, but I can talk to the nurses.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Marianne. “I want to be the one to say it. Still, um, if you don’t mind, would you come with me?”

“Of course,” said Dimitri. “I have to go to the nurses’ station anyway after breakfast.”

“Oh, what for?” asked Marianne. 

“I need to make a phone call. I got the number of an old family friend yesterday evening, and I want to call him. I used to be close with his sons,” said Dimitri. 

“I hope that goes well,” said Marianne. She wondered if by staying close to Dimitri now, she would ruin his chance of reconnecting with his friends. She shook her head at the thought. 

“Thank you. I’m feeling hopeful, I think,” said Dimitri. 

They finished their breakfasts and put away their trays. Marianne wasn’t quite finished with her tea, so she took the cup with her. They walked to the nurses’ station. Dimitri gave Marianne an encouraging smile, and Marianne smiled back at him. Then she walked up to the desk. 

“Hello, do you need help with something?” asked the nurse behind the desk.

“Um, yes,” said Marianne. “I need to discuss a problem with my medication.”

“Oh, you’re the one who was up last night,” said the nurse. “Not a problem. Who’s your psychiatrist?” 

“Dr. Navarro,” answered Marianne.

“Hm, she’s out today, but Dr. Williams is in. I’ll send a message his way that he’ll need to meet with you, and he’ll find you when he has a gap in his schedule. Does that work for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Marianne. 

“No problem,” said the nurse. 

Marianne’s shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized she’d been tensing them. It was over, but she’d asked for something she needed. She’d really done it.

She turned around to walk away from the nurses’ station, and saw Dimitri, beaming with pride. He held up a hand, and Marianne stopped. 

For a moment they stood there like that, and then Dimitri said “Um, high five?” 

Marianne blushed. She was afraid to touch him, lest the curse travel. And yet, she had just done one terrifying thing. Maybe it was time for another.  _ Goddess give me strength _ . 

Marianne reached out and gave Dimitri a high five. It felt nice, she realized, just to feel another person’s hand on her own. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. So Marianne closed her eyes for just a second, to tuck the memory of this moment away. A moment she’d felt truly free. 


	19. Happy

After lunch, Marianne decided to try the art therapy group. It was better than hiding in her room, and she hadn’t drawn or painted since middle school art class. She supposed it might be a reasonable time to try again. She didn’t really understand the point of art therapy, what it was supposed to do, but it sounded like the sort of thing that could be fun, as long as nobody made her share her work. 

When Marianne arrived, the therapist was setting up in the community room. There were stacks of paper--both white and colorful--on one table and on another were bins of markers, watercolor palettes, and crayons. A few other patients had already arrived; Dimitri was not among them. 

Marianne took a seat at one of the tables and waited to be instructed in what to do with the art supplies. The art therapist finished setting out plastic cups and brushes, then turned to face the assembled patients. She started off. “I’m Lydia, one of the therapists here. Is everyone ready to start for today?”

There were murmurs of assent.

“Wonderful,” said Lydia. “To start, I’d like to give you all some time to think about a time when you felt happy. Just content. I’ll give you one minute to think, so GO!”

Marianne closed her eyes and thought. When had she been happy? Her first thought was of the previous night, talking with Dimitri and drinking tea together, but the more she thought about it, the more she remembered how exhausted and afraid she’d been. While she was glad to have been with somebody understanding to ease her fear, that probably wasn’t the sort of happy Lydia was thinking of. So Marianne thought harder. But the more she tried to look back through her memories, the blanker her mind felt. She had woken up tired and sick of living, she had gone to class tired and sick of living, she had gone home tired and sick of living, and she had gone to bed the very same way. What was there that counted as “happy?” 

“Alright, now that you’ve all thought of something that made you happy--” wait, what? Had the minute really gone by so quickly? Had other people been able to think of something? Marianne glanced around the room; nobody else looked the slightest bit disquieted. Maybe they were just better at hiding it than she was. “--I want you to draw the feelings that that moment gave you. Not necessarily the moment itself, but the way it made you feel. We have paper over there, if you want to use watercolors, I’d recommend taking some of the thicker paper. Alright, go ahead!”

The other patients started getting up and walking over to the tables with paper and art supplies, and Marianne followed, not sure at all what she’d do once she got there. Impulsively, she grabbed a sheet of thick white paper and a handful of crayons and returned to her table. Once she got there, she was overwhelmed with doubt. What on earth was she going to do with this? She hadn’t even been able to think of a happy memory. Nervously, Marianne picked up one of the crayons, deep violet, and began coloring in from the corner of the paper. 

When had she been happy? With her parents maybe? Was it really that long ago? There were vague memories of being pushed on a swing, of her mother helping her with homework and teaching her to braid her own hair, of her father surprising her with Dorte the stuffed horse on her birthday. Was that really the last time she’d been happy? What about as a teenager, getting to ride horses at Margrave von Edmund’s summer house, feeding the birds in the woods behind her private school, being taken out to dinner to celebrate her test scores? Did any of that make her really happy? Or did it just make being alive feel temporarily bearable? She started with a pink crayon in the next corner, and shaded her way towards the center to meet the purple. Whatever. She’d just draw.

Had she ever really been happy? Did the Goddess make her happy? The Goddess inspired awe, love, and gratitude. The Goddess was someone she could confide in and rely on. The Goddess governed her life. And yet the Goddess had allowed her to be cursed. The Goddess had to be appeased at every turn. What was happiness, anyway? Why was nothing in her memories enough to be happiness? One of the crayons was a metallic gold. It shimmered with glitter. Marianne chose that one for the next corner.

A memory floated to the surface as Marianne drew. Fluorescent lighting, dirty wall to wall carpeting, threadbare couches arranged around a low table. A dorm common room. She had sat on one of those couches quizzing Lorenz on the structures of organic molecules. Claude had been reading her essay on the history of environmental law, and Hilda had been sprawled out on another couch complaining about how much work she had to do while not doing any of it. She remembered the way Lorenz had blushed when he got something wrong, then tried to argue his way out of it, Claude’s assurance that her writing was “really pretty good,” Hilda ordering pizza when they realized the dining hall had already closed for the night. 

Oh. She’d been happy. That was it. Surrounded by friends, working together long into the night, sharing meals, discussing politics and the church. She had been quiet around them, never felt like she contributed very much, clung to Hilda and let her do the talking. But she’d been happy to be with the others, glad to be included. Of course, her curse had gotten in the way. She’d been happy, but knowing that she was a danger to the others had ruined it, driven them apart. But maybe, if Dimitri was right about how her curse worked, if the only danger to others was that it drove her away from them…  _ Please Goddess, let it be true _ . 

Marianne stared down at the remaining crayons. None of them seemed right for the final corner. She’d have to get something else. She stood and walked back over to the table with the bins of art supplies to return them. This time, Marianne noticed the bin of watercolors. Most of the pallets were a mess, with the colors all running together. That was fine. It didn’t matter. Marianne picked one up, and grabbed a cup for water and the thickest brush on the table. Her paper was thick enough to hold the paint, and the crayons would repel the water and show through. 

Marianne sat back down to paint. She dipped the brush in water, then let it drip into the blue pigment. Blue was her favorite color, but the paint was much darker than the shades she liked. That was fine. She’d paint with it anyway. Marianne dipped her brush into the wet paint and started from the pink corner, making a bold stroke across the entire page. As she’d predicted, the wax of the crayons repelled the watercolor, making the pink and purple show through. She put the brush back in the paint and pulled it across the paper again. And again. It really didn’t look like much of anything, but the rhythm of dipping the brush and running it across the paper was relaxing. 

Lydia spoke out to the silent room. “Just so everyone knows, we’ll be stopping to clean up in about five minutes. There will be expressive therapy again tomorrow, so feel free to bring your piece back if you want more time to finish it.” 

Once she had reached the bottom of the page, Marianne stopped to survey her work. Three corners of the paper contained colorful scribbles, while the fourth stood out on its own. The blue watercolor had filled it in instead, uninterrupted by crayon. Still, it made the picture look lopsided, as if something was missing. It looked unfinished. The whole paper looked stupid. Even if she grabbed up another crayon to fill in the remaining corner, her work would be nothing more than a few randomly chosen colors scribbled on a piece of paper. What a waste of perfectly good materials. Marianne was glad that Lydia hadn’t said anything about showing the others what she’d done. She felt embarrassed just looking at it.

As the art therapy session slowed to a halt, Marianne helped clean up. She washed the brushes over the sink at the back of the room, letting the paint-water flow over her hands. The colors blended together in the sink and spiralled down the drain. Regardless of the silliness of what she had actually produced, Marianne supposed she had had fun making it. Besides, she had remembered something very important.

* * *

After art therapy, the patients gathered in the community room for outside time. Tom was the one who led them out into the courtyard. Dimitri joined the group then, and Marianne nodded to him as a greeting. Dimitri didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t say a word as the group was shepherded out into the courtyard, and he kept his eyes on the ground. 

Marianne was too timid to say anything to him. If he wanted to be alone, she wouldn’t interrupt him. So instead she spent the outside time looking up at the sky and in the bushes, for birds. Perhaps she’d see the bushtit again. Perhaps she’d see somebody else. Perhaps she’d hear birdsong. The day was cold and overcast, but it wasn’t raining and the benches were mostly dry, so Marianne knelt on one, looking into the foliage.

Dimitri paced back and forth across the courtyard, as usual. What was different was his expression. Usually Dimitri’s face was blank when he paced, but today he looked tense and focussed. He was thinking hard, Marianne could tell that much when she turned around to inspect the bushes on the other side of the courtyard. Something was troubling him. 

Marianne took a deep breath. Her curse kept her away from people. The way to break it, to counteract its effects, was to reach out. And so as Dimitri neared her bench, she spoke. Something to take his mind off his troubles. “Dimitri, do you want to look for birds with me?” 

Dimitri closed his eye tightly and shook his head. “Stop,” he said with great effort. He turned and walked away and resumed his pacing.

Oh. Marianne’s heart sank. She had tried, and she had failed.  _ Goddess, whatever I have done to him, please, in your infinite grace, undo it. Forgive me this transgression, and let him be ok _ . She slouched down on the bench, and stared at her lap, praying that the tears welling up in her eyes wouldn’t fall. 


	20. Really Trying

Marianne was still deeply embarrassed and unhappy with herself when Tom brought everyone inside. The moment they entered, Dimitri separated himself from the group to return to his room. Marianne felt terrible. Whatever had happened with Dimitri, it was her fault, she was sure of it. They had gotten on so well the previous night and even that morning. Was it her curse? Marianne thought back to the high five.  _ Stupid. You know you shouldn’t touch other people. You’re just going to bring them misery _ . 

When Marianne reached the nurses’ station, a man she had never seen before stopped her. “Are you Marianne von Edmund?” 

“Yes. Sorry.”

“No, no need to be sorry. I’m Dr. Williams. I’ve been waiting for you. Do you have a moment to chat?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, that’s fine,” said Marianne. She supposed she’d have time before the next group. 

Dr. Williams led her to an out of the way cluster of chairs. “So I understand that you recently started taking an atypical antipsychotic as part of your treatment for depression with psychotic features?”

“Um, I think so?” asked Marianne. She had been prescribed an atypical antipsychotic, yes, and she had depression, but this was the first she’d heard about “psychotic features.” She wondered what the term meant. It didn’t sound good. 

“That’s what’s in your chart. You had your first dose of the medication last night, and then you had trouble getting to sleep,” said Dr. Williams. 

“Yes, I couldn’t sleep because I felt like I had to walk around. I couldn’t lie still,” Marianne explained. 

“What time did you eventually go to sleep?” asked Dr. Williams.

“Around three,” said Marianne.

“And you think it was because of the medication?” he asked.

Marianne was getting tired of this. “Yes, I think so.” 

“Well, an easy solution would be having you take the medication in the morning instead,” said Dr. Williams. 

“Um, would I still be unable to be still?” asked Marianne. 

“Well, the medication has an activating effect for you. It’s better to take activating medications in the morning,” said Dr. Williams. 

That wasn’t an answer to Marianne’s question. She tried again. “If I take it in the morning, won’t I just feel the same way, and make me want to walk around?”

“It might give you more energy, but most of us would say that’s a good thing,” said Dr. Williams, smiling. “Especially when we have depression, which can cause fatigue.” 

Marianne gave up. “Alright. Thank you,” she said. 

“Well, thank you, Marianne, for meeting with me today. You don’t have any medications you need to take tonight; I’ll let the nurses know that you’ll be taking both the SSRI and the atypical antipsychotic in the morning, and I’ll put in a note to Dr. Navarro. Have a good evening.” Dr. Williams stood, smiling. 

“Um, you too,” said Marianne. She supposed getting switched to taking the antipsychotic in the morning was better than nothing. And it was true that depression caused fatigue. She barely had the energy to do anything; going to and from class was all she could handle in a day. Maybe that could change with her medication. Still, Marianne felt as if she’d lost a game she didn’t know she was playing. 

* * *

The final group of the day was on mental illness myths. Marianne arrived at the community room just as it was beginning. It was set up differently from the other groups, with each patient being given an index card when they walked in. On one side was a statement. Marianne’s said “mental illness is caused by a weak character” written in thick green marker. They were each supposed to read their card and then say whether or not they thought the statement was true or false. Marianne knew hers was false. She knew it, and yet she couldn’t help but think that her character really was weak regardless. Maybe it wasn’t why she had depression “with psychotic features” (whatever that meant), but it was true of her. That was why she’d felt so awful after talking to Dr. Williams. That was why she had gone and bothered Dimitri during outside time. That was why she’d thought she could get away from her curse, even though it was obvious that she couldn’t. Depression or not, Marianne was cursed. She was destined to push people away. 

* * *

As usual, Hilda arrived for visiting hours. “I got a ride from Claude,” said Hilda, after they’d exchanged their hellos. “He kept saying he wanted to come see you, he made it all the way to the reception desk with me, even though I kept saying ‘absolutely not.’ One of the receptionists had to tell him to back off.” 

“He wanted to see me that badly?” asked Marianne.

“I think he’s just curious,” said Hilda. “After all, nobody but me knows why you’re in the hospital. Claude hates when people keep things from him.”

“That’s funny,” said Marianne. She had just realized something, something important, about the days when they were friends.

“Why’s that funny? I think he’s nosy,” said Hilda. 

“That he hates when people keep secrets, but I feel like I barely know anything about him. We used to be good friends, you, me, him, and Lorenz, and I know things about you and Lorenz, but I don’t know anything about Claude,” said Marianne. 

“Used to be good friends?” said Hilda. “We  _ are _ good friends. We just moved out of the dorms. Lorenz and Claude still want to hang out with us, you know. I see Claude all the time in class and in the library. He literally drove me here tonight. But yeah, I think I know what you mean about Claude. He never tells you anything straight out.” 

Marianne nodded. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

“What? I’m not offended,” said Hilda. “I said I knew what you meant.” 

“Um, ok,” said Marianne. 

“By the way, Marianne, do you know when you’re getting discharged yet?” asked Hilda. 

“No, I’m sorry,” said Marianne.

“You really ought to ask. I need to know so that I can come to your meeting,” said Hilda.

“I’m sorry. I’ll ask tomorrow,” Marianne said.

“Are you sure?” said Hilda. “Because you’re the kind of person who’ll get scared and then not ask.”

“I’m sorry,” said Marianne. 

“No, I’m sorry. I just mean, look. We can go to the desk together and I can ask for you. They should have some idea, right?” said Hilda. 

“My doctor isn’t here today,” said Marianne.

“But if we go to the desk to ask, they’ll have to at least think about it. Come on Marianne, I’ve been thinking about this, and it seems like you’re just not doing anything about this! You don’t know when you’re leaving, you didn’t even ask, you say you’re here because you choose to be, but are you really choosing? You're not trying at all. Let’s just go ask. What’s the worst that could happen? They don’t know?” said Hilda. 

Marianne would have preferred Hilda had hit her. Being told she wasn’t doing anything hurt, hurt worse than that. She  _ was _ doing something: she went to every group she could, she had started medication, she was thinking about everything differently, she was trying new things. She was trying so hard; why couldn’t Hilda see it? But Marianne didn’t say any of that. “Fine, we can go.” 

Marianne and Hilda stood and walked amongst the clusters of armchairs towards the desk. Marianne noticed Dimitri was there, talking to a man who looked nothing like the one she’d seen him with earlier. “Hello,” said Hilda when they got there. “I have a question.”

“Hilda, please stop,” said Marianne. “I want to say it.” 

Hilda turned to look at her. “Really? Go ahead, I guess,” she said. 

“What’s going on, ladies?” said the nurse behind the desk. 

Marianne took a deep breath. “She wants to know if I have a discharge date planned,” she said.

Hilda beamed.  _ See _ , Marianne wanted to say,  _ I am doing something. I learned how to ask people for things _ . 

The nurse answered with a question. “Well, did you set one up with your psychiatrist?” 

“Not yet,” said Marianne. 

“They’re the ones who make the decisions about discharges. I can put a note in to your psychiatrist to discuss it with you next time you see them?” suggested the nurse.

“That would be very kind, thank you,” said Marianne. 

“Alright then,” said the nurse. “I can put in that note. Thank you for asking.” 

“See, you did it!” said Hilda. “You can get all this figured out, I know you can.” 

“Thank you, Hilda,” said Marianne. There was so much more she wanted to say to Hilda. She wanted to tell Hilda about meeting with Dr. Williams. About the sleepless night and the morning when she’d asked to see someone. She wanted to talk about Dimitri, and about process group. She wanted to hold everything up for Hilda and say “see, look, I’m doing something. I’m working hard. I’m trying.” 

“Of course, Marianne. That’s what I’m here for, after all. I should probably go now; I shouldn’t keep Claude waiting,” said Hilda. 

“Hilda,” said Marianne. 

“Yes?” said Hilda.

Marianne was trying. She really was. She was going to get better. She was going to break her curse. She was going to be happy again. “It’s ok if you tell Claude why I’m here. Really, it’s fine. I’m going to be seeing him right when I get home anyway.” 

“Um, are you sure?” asked Hilda. 

“Yes, I am,” said Marianne.

“Ok,” said Hilda. “I’ll tell him. If you’re really sure.”

“I’m really sure,” said Marianne. 

“Ok. I’ll go tell him. He’ll be grateful to know, I’m sure.” Hilda rolled her eyes and Marianne smiled. 

It really was ok with Marianne if Claude knew. She was trying. She was going to reach out, again, and again. Even if there were times when it didn’t work, even if sometimes she got hurt. Marianne was going to keep trying. And even if she couldn’t make Hilda understand, she’d know in her own heart that she was stronger than she seemed. 


	21. A Place To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the notes at the end after this chapter. It's really important.

After the community meeting, Dimitri walked up to Marianne as she left the community room. “Marianne,” he said, “I think I owe you an apology for earlier.”

“Oh, um, thank you,” said Marianne. It took her a moment to realize he was talking about their exchange during the outside time. “But really, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, I was rude,” said Dimitri. “I didn’t mean to just brush you off like that.”

“No, it’s ok,” said Marianne. “Something was troubling you.”

Dimitri nodded. “But it’s all settled now.”

“Oh, I’m glad,” said Marianne. She had no clue what he was talking about.

“Is it ok if I talk about it with you, actually?” said Dimitri. His words came out in a rush. “I don’t want to bother you if you have things you’d rather do, but I’m really happy about this, actually.” 

“Of course,” said Marianne. They walked through the space in front of the nurses’ station, then turned at the corner to walk around past the medication room. 

“Thank you so much,” said Dimitri. “Basically, I don’t have to live with Gilbert after I’m discharged.” 

“Who is Gilbert?” asked Marianne. 

“Gilbert is an old friend of my father’s,” said Dimitri. “I knew him growing up. He was the one who was letting me stay on his couch. But I was still, well, in a very bad place. I said some really terrible things. I scared Gilbert badly. He called the cops on me, after I said I wanted to kill my stepsister.”

That explanation only gave Marianne more questions. She settled for asking the most pressing one. “Why did you want to kill your stepsister?” She found herself wondering if the kind Dimitri she knew was genuine.

Dimitri sighed. “Marianne, we’re all here because we’re mentally ill.” 

“Yes,” said Marianne. She didn’t quite understand how this was connected. 

“Well, part of my illness is that I believe things that aren’t true. I have delusions. Right now they’re not as strong. I can believe the truth and the delusion at the same time. For example, I believe that there’s someone who has been pulling the strings on my entire life, who is behind my father being killed, behind my mother dying, behind me being haunted, who is hunting me down to finally kill me. And at the same time, I know she’s living her own life, working in Enbarr, and that spending weekends at my father and stepmother’s house is probably nothing more than a distant memory for her,” said Dimitri.

“You thought your stepsister wanted to kill you?” said Marianne. 

“Yes, I did. I also thought she’d been the one to kill my father. So I was angry with her, and I said that I wanted her dead,” said Dimitri. 

“And that’s why you’re here,” said Marianne. 

“In a roundabout way, yes,” said Dimitri. “Gilbert called the police on me because I kept saying I wanted to kill her. The police said they couldn’t do anything because all my threats were abstract and weren’t any real plan. They suggested taking me to the emergency room the next time I said anything like that, which Gilbert did, as soon as they left. I complied. My life was already a disaster and I knew something was wrong, even if I really did think Edelgard -- that’s my stepsister’s name, sorry -- wanted to kill me.”

“Oh, I see,” said Marianne. Dimitri had been delusional. And in the grip of his delusions, he had threatened to kill someone. The Goddess would surely forgive him that. Marianne thought of the earnest and kind man she’d come to know, and felt not fear towards him but sympathy. What a terrible thing to believe, that your stepsister had killed your father and wanted you dead. 

“I’m doing better now though,” said Dimitri quickly. “I know logically that it isn’t true, that Edelgard doesn’t want to hurt me. And no matter what, I don’t want to hurt her.”

“How long has it been since then?” Marianne asked.

“Since I stopped thinking that way or since I got here? It’ll be two weeks on Tuesday.” It was Sunday. Dimitri continued, “But I was in the ward at Fhirdiad General for a couple days before they transferred me here. It was too crowded there; they couldn’t turn anyone away but they didn’t have enough beds or enough staff for everyone there. I slept in an armchair in the common room both nights. Once they figured out I had insurance through my inheritance, I was told I could transfer here. How did we get on this topic?” 

“You were telling me you didn’t have to live with Gilbert anymore,” said Marianne. 

“Right, thank you,” said Dimitri. “I’m sorry for getting us so far off topic, but I’m glad in a way that I had the chance to tell you about that. I mean, so you can decide whether you still want to associate with me,” he added in a rush.

“I don’t mind,” said Marianne. She remembered a conversation the two of them had had before, the night she had told him to stay away from her. “Actually, I’m glad to know. What you said just now: you also see yourself as someone who’ll only cause pain for others. We’re the same in that respect. I understand what you meant when you called us fellow voyagers now.” 

Dimitri turned to look at her. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, I’m grateful. You do understand.” 

“I’m sorry that we have this in common, but I’m glad too,” said Marianne.

They circled around past the nurses’ station again. The clock on the wall read 8:30. “Anyway, I still feel that I shouldn’t live with Gilbert. I scared him, and while he was close with my father, I don’t want to make him feel obligated to be around someone who makes him feel afraid or uncomfortable. He’s the sort of person who will do anything he feels like he has a duty to do, and it’s easy to become a burden to people like that. So I got another old family friend’s phone number from him, to see if he would either let me stay with him or help me find someplace else to stay where I wouldn’t have to live on my own.”

“And he said yes?” asked Marianne. 

“Yes. I called this morning. He said he wanted to meet with me first to talk to me and see how I was doing, so he came to see me at visiting hours. I was pretty stressed out about it earlier, and when I get stressed, well, my positive symptoms start coming back. That’s why I was so rude to you earlier. But everything turned out ok. Rodrigue has some requirements, like he wants to come to my discharge meeting for sure, and he doesn’t want me to go off my medication again, and wants me to be in some kind of day program so I’m not alone at the house all the time. He also wants me to be home every night for dinner and to help out with chores. But that’s a good thing, I think. I don’t want to go off my meds again or be left alone with my thoughts. I want to work; I want to be helpful. I want to do something,” Dimitri said seriously. 

“That’s wonderful, then,” said Marianne. She really was happy for him. But part of her was jealous too. Jealous that there was somebody looking out for Dimitri, somebody who’d be there for him when he was discharged. She’d have Hilda, yes, and she was going to reach back out to Claude and Lorenz, but it wasn’t the same.  _ Goddess, forgive my ingratitude _ . 

“I’m so grateful to him,” said Dimitri. “He’s a good man, Rodrigue. I used to be best friends with his sons. We’d all go over to his house every day after school and make a terrible mess of the place and eat all his food. Good times.” 

Marianne smiled. The idea of a pack of small children descending on this man’s kitchen amused her for some reason. “He sounds kind,” she said. 

“He is. I can never repay him for all the kindness he’s done me,” said Dimitri. 

“You said you were good friends with his sons? I suppose it will be a chance to see them again too, if they still live at home,” said Marianne. Her jealousy was building, and she fought it. Dimitri deserved a bit of happiness. She should be glad for him.  _ Goddess, steer my heart _ . 

“I’m afraid I won’t see them,” said Dimitri sadly. “The older one died, and the younger one, well, it’s for the best that he doesn’t live at home anymore.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Marianne.  _ It’s because you were jealous. It’s all because of you and your curse and your jealousy _ . Marianne shook her head. No, it wasn’t her. It couldn’t have been. She didn’t even know Dimitri then, and she’d never met these boys who had been his friends.

“It isn’t your fault. I pushed a lot of people away, did and said things I shouldn’t have. I do want to make things right with Felix someday, but he has every right to be angry with me,” said Dimitri. “I certainly don’t want him to have to live with me before we at least are on speaking terms again, so it’s good that he’s away at school. It’ll give me a chance to try talking to him, apologizing, before he comes home for the summer. I’ll be able to talk to some of my other old friends in person too.” 

They continued their walk around the ward. Light from the movie in the community room flickered through the windows into the hall. “I hope it works,” said Marianne. She thought of Claude and Lorenz. “I have people I want to be friends with again too. I don’t think they’re angry with me, but we just sort of fell apart.” 

Dimitri nodded. “Are you going to contact them when you go home?”

“Yes,” said Marianne. “I already made plans to study with one of them. It sounds silly but it’s keeping me going, knowing I’ll see him again.” She paused. “He’d been asking after me, and tonight I told my roommate it was ok to tell him why I was in the hospital.”

“That’s brave of you,” said Dimitri. “And it’s a good idea too, I think. That way there’s a reason why you got distant. He won’t just think you’re angry with him.”

“Thank you,” said Marianne. She would reach out to Lorenz too, tell him the truth someday. She’d have to be careful about how she did it; it wasn’t a task she could leave to Hilda, but he deserved to know too. She would rebuild the friendships she had had, just like Dimitri was going to. Even if she didn’t have someone like Rodrigue looking out for her, she was going to do her best.

“There’s one more person I need to talk to again, but I don’t know how to find him. There were times I tried to call him, during the time I was on my own and on the run, but the number I had was disconnected,” Dimitri said. “He wasn’t the closest with the group that hung around Rodrigue’s house, but he’s someone irreplaceable, and I want to find him again and tell him I’m sorry. He tried to help me when I was falling apart, even though he was hurting too, and I just pushed him away.” 

“I hope you can find him,” said Marianne. 

“I tried facebook once, but he didn’t have an account. I should probably try other sites when I have a computer,” said Dimitri. 

“That’s a good idea,” said Marianne. She took a deep breath. “Is it ok if I pray for you? That you reconcile with everyone.” 

Dimitri smiled, but something about his eye seemed sad. “Yes. You may. Thank you.” 

“Of course,” said Marianne. “Thank  _ you _ .” She was still a little jealous that he had someone like Rodrigue who’d be there for him, but that was no reason why she couldn’t ask the Goddess to be there for him too. To help him find his friends again. To have something to look forward to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter involved trying to negotiate the events of the game with how real world mental illness works, and that involved some artistic liberties on both sides. While I assume most of you already know that most psychotic people are not violent like Dimitri is in game, it's also worth stating that we're more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators. Delusions don't make somebody want to kill someone, they just effect the information that goes into the calculus behind the decision. If you or your friend has delusions, including paranoid delusions, that doesn't mean there's any potential for violence. It doesn't make you a monster. 
> 
> The game does a really bad job with how Dimitri's mental health is portrayed, and in this fic, I'm trying to be true to his in game characterization. However, I definitely don't want readers to come away thinking that psychosis = desire to harm people, because most of the time, it really doesn't.


	22. Safer

The next morning, Marianne paused in the middle of her prayer. She knew it by heart, but something about it was bothering her. She knew the next line, “ _ Take my life, oh Goddess, take me to you in the coming day, _ ” but she didn’t want to say it. It wasn’t entirely true. Maybe she still wanted to die someday, but not yet, not in the coming day. It would be wrong to ask the Goddess for something she didn’t quite want. So Marianne cut her prayer short. It felt strange, but oddly freeing. Things didn’t have to stay the same forever. 

* * *

At breakfast that morning, Marianne sat with Dimitri and Linda, who was being discharged that day. Marianne felt too shy to ask her about it, but Dimitri didn’t. “Are you glad to be going home?” he asked her.

“Let me put it this way, I’m going home with a sense of purpose. I know what work I have to do. I don’t know for sure whether or not I’ll do it, but I am meeting with my outpatient therapist tomorrow, so we can set up a plan,” said Linda. 

“I hope you can do the things that need to be done, then,” said Dimitri. 

“Thanks,” said Linda. “It’s all riding on me now, and that’s a place where the pressure trips me up. See, I know that, but that doesn’t change things.” 

Marianne nodded. She wished she could do more for Linda, could assure her that everything was going to be alright, but that was impossible. 

“I believe in you,” said Dimitri. “You have it in you to be strong and do what needs doing.” 

How did he always know what to say? Marianne wished she could do that.

“Hah, I’ll see about that,” said Linda, draining her coffee cup. 

“I’ll be thinking of you,” said Marianne. It sounded so weak but she really did mean it. 

“Thank you, Marianne,” said Linda. “I’ll be thinking of you both too, wishing you well.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. 

After breakfast, all three of them, along with most of the other patients, paid a visit to the medication room. Because only one person could use the medication room at a time, the patients stood in a short line outside the door, waiting their turn. Marianne felt somewhat apprehensive, knowing that she was going to be taking the same pill that had made her feel so restless two nights before. Would she spend the rest of the day walking in circles around the ward, unable to sit still in groups? Eventually, it was her turn. Marianne entered the little room. 

The nurse at the window at the back greeted her. “Come right on up, Marianne von Edmund, right?” 

Marianne walked up to the window. “Yes, thank you,” she said. 

“Ok, let me just scan your wristband and I’ll get your prescriptions set up for you.”

Marianne held up her arm, and the nurse scanned the bracelet. “Thank you,” she said. 

“Alright, just a moment. So you’re taking ten milligrams of an SSRI and five miligrams of an atypical antipsychotic. Got that coming right up,” said the nurse. He reached into a filing cabinet behind him and pulled out a plastic bag. “How’re you feeling this morning?” 

“I’m feeling fine, thank you,” said Marianne. 

“Glad to hear it,” said the nurse, taking the pills from the plastic bag and putting them into a little paper cup. “Here you go.” 

Marianne took the cup and a second cup filled with water. She looked at the tiny blue and white tablets, nervously.  _ Goddess forgive and protect me _ . She threw them into her mouth and swallowed them with the water. 

“Alright, have a good day,” said the nurse, and Marianne got up to leave. She walked back out, and Dimitri took her place inside the medication room. 

The medication room was right by Marianne’s bedroom, and she still had a little bit of time before the morning’s groups would start, so she went into the bedroom to do some reading. She sat at her desk and opened her animal behavior textbook to the chapter where the class had left off. Today was only the second school day she’d missed, but she still felt guilty. She’d be behind when she got back, she was sure of it.

After she had read for a little while, there was a knock at her door. Marianne stood up as Dr. Navarro entered. “Hello, Marianne. Is now a good time to talk?” she said.

“Yes, thank you,” said Marianne, closing her book. She could read later. 

“That’s good, thank you,” said Dr. Navarro. She pulled the chair from the other desk. Marianne briefly wondered what would happen to these meetings if she ever got a roommate. “So I saw in your chart that you had some restlessness and difficulty sleeping the other night after you started your medication?” 

“Yes,” said Marianne. “Dr. Williams switched me to taking it in the morning, so I just took it.”

“Alright, good,” said Dr. Navarro. “That should get that sorted out. How have you been feeling? Any suicidal thoughts or thoughts about being cursed?”

Marianne thought. “Some. I’m trying to look at my curse differently.”

“Differently how?” Dr. Navarro asked.

“It’s hard to explain. One of the other patients here said something about how it pushes me away from people and that’s the real misfortune it causes to others, so I’m thinking about it like that,” said Marianne. 

“I see,” said Dr. Navarro. “That’s good. And any suicidal thoughts?” 

“A little bit, but nothing immediate,” Marianne said. “I might want to die someday, but I don’t want to die now. I don’t want to take suicide off the table forever, but I have a few things to live for.”

“Ok, would you mind saying what they are?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“I want to see my friends again. I want to learn how to get better at talking to people,” Marianne said. “So I can help people.” The last part came to her suddenly, in that moment. She wanted to be more like Dimitri. Someone who could comfort people. Someone who could make others feel less alone, less powerless in the face of their struggles. 

“That's a good goal, Marianne,” said Dr. Navarro. “You’re a kind person.” 

“No, I’m not,” said Marianne. “I have such mean, jealous thoughts. I want to do better, but I’m not kind. Not yet.”

“Marianne, there’s no such thing as a person whose thoughts are all good all the time. What matters is what you do and what your goals are. Your goal is to be kind. I also heard that you’ve managed to make friends with somebody else here who really needs a friend right now. That’s a tremendous show of kindness, what you’ve done for him. Even if you have bad thoughts sometimes, you can still be a kind person because of your actions,” said Dr. Navarro.

“Are you talking about Dimitri?” Marianne asked.

“Yes, I think you’re doing a wonderful thing by being so kind to him,” said Dr. Navarro. 

Marianne took a moment to choose her words. “I don’t think you understand,” she said, “the way things are between us. He’s the one who’s doing me kindness. Dimitri is kinder than anyone. He knows I’m cursed and he still befriended me. I’m not his friend because I’m being charitable.” 

Dr. Navarro sighed. “I hope you understand though that you’re also being kind. Friendship goes both ways, and from what I’ve heard from you as well as what’s in your chart, you’ve been working very hard. I just want to make sure that you don’t become overly invested. Your own recovery is what you’re here for; you aren’t responsible for anyone else’s. It’s good if you can connect with other patients here, but you need to take care of yourself. Remember, on airplanes, you have to put on your own oxygen mask before you assist others.”

She didn’t understand. It wasn’t hard work for Marianne to be friends with Dimitri. “I’m not sacrificing my own wellbeing, Dr. Navarro. He’s helping me.”  _ At least as much as you _ , she wanted to say, but stopped herself. “The fact that he’s struggling too doesn’t make him a burden.” Maybe if that was true of Dimitri, it could be true of her too. Maybe someday she could say it about herself.

“I’m glad you feel that way, but I want you to remember that you have to take care of yourself before you can take care of others. If you ever feel like you’re being depended on too much, you’re always allowed to pull back. It’s ok to be friendly with other people here, but it’s also important to maintain healthy boundaries,” said Dr. Navarro. 

“Thank you for your concern,” said Marianne. 

“You’re welcome,” said Dr. Navarro. “You’re a very kind person, and our job here is to help you heal. You don’t need to take on somebody else’s healing. It’s fine if you and Dimitri continue to talk, but be careful that you don’t take on too much. His psychiatrist will be talking with him about this as well.”

Marianne felt a twist in her stomach. Was this her curse, coming to take away her friend? She’d told him to stay away and he had listened, at least until that awful night. If he was told to stay away from her again, this time by a psychiatrist, would he obey? Would they tell him he was a burden? If they did, it would be her fault for getting too close.  _ Goddess, help me. Help him _ . 

“Is there anything more you want to talk about?” asked Dr. Navarro.

Marianne steeled herself. “Yes,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I have two questions for you.”

“Go ahead,” said Dr. Navarro.

“What does ‘with psychotic features’ mean? Dr. Williams said something about me being treated for ‘depression with psychotic features’ yesterday, and I’m not entirely sure what that meant,” said Marianne. 

“Well, it means that your depression is so intense it gives you symptoms like strange thoughts or hallucinations. These types of symptoms usually show up in psychotic disorders, like schizophrenia. But sometimes they happen in depressed people as well. Then, it’s called ‘depression with psychotic features,’” said Dr. Navarro. 

“Is that what you think I have?” asked Marianne.

“Yes, I do. Does that sound right to you?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

Marianne thought. “By strange thoughts, do you mean me being cursed?” 

“I mean you thinking you’re cursed, thinking you’re being watched, and thinking that the Goddess is sending you messages. All of those can be psychotic symptoms,” Dr. Navarro said.

“But what if it’s all real?” asked Marianne. “I really am cursed, the Goddess really does send me signs, and she watches over me.” 

Dr. Navarro sighed. “These types of thoughts usually seem very, very true. But looking in from the outside, they don’t seem to fit the picture of reality. Hopefully, your medication will help you see things more clearly.”

“Oh,” said Marianne. She remembered talking to Dimitri the previous night about his delusions that his stepsister wanted to kill him. If Dr. Navarro was talking about Marianne having delusions, why wouldn’t she just say it? Why hadn’t she told Marianne about having psychotic features? Why did she just not say things? 

“What’s your other question?” asked Dr. Navarro.

“Do you know when I’ll be discharged?” said Marianne. “My roommate wants to know when she should come to our meeting.” 

“Well, since you’re no longer immediately suicidal, I think now would be a good time to start working on getting your safety plan and care program set up so that we can transition you to outpatient care. Today is Monday, so I think you can expect to be home on Wednesday or Thursday,” said Dr. Navarro. “Would you be able to meet later today to start working on a safety plan? I’ll bring you some printouts and we can get started on making a safety plan this afternoon. I’ll also contact our outpatient care coordinator to get you set up with a group to attend after you’re discharged.” 

A group. That was what had started this all. Marianne had tried to join a group, been told to visit a psychiatrist, had been on a waitlist for two months, and had wound up in the psychiatric ward after her first session. What a roundabout way of getting group therapy. “Thank you,” said Marianne. 

“You’re certainly welcome,” said Dr. Navarro. “I’ll come and find you again later, and so will Andrea, our outpatient care coordinator. Have a good morning, Marianne.”

“Thank you. Um, I’ll see you later, then,” said Marianne. 

Dr. Navarro left. Marianne stayed sitting at the desk and let a million conflicting feelings wash over her. Dr. Navarro had said that her curse was a delusion, but if that was true, then why was it that she and Dimitri were being viewed with such suspicion?  _ Goddess, give me guidance _ .


	23. Hope

While Marianne missed the first group of the day talking to Dr. Navarro, she was able to go to the group on mindfulness. Mindfulness was being totally aware of the present moment, observing it nonjudgmentally. Marianne and the other patients were told to sit in their chairs and pay attention to their breath and the sensations of their bodies. When she noticed her thoughts wandering, her job was to bring them back without judging them. Being asked to sit still was painful for Marianne, especially as her medication was taking effect and making her want to bounce her leg. However, once she got her mind to focus on her breathing and the way her body felt in the chair, something inside her settled. It was calming to attend to something so small and basic as breathing in and out, in and out. Still, Marianne did find herself thinking about what Dr. Navarro had said about her delusions. She was cursed. She was certain of that. The idea that it was just a delusion would be a relief, but that didn’t make it not true. Marianne knew better than to accept as truth whatever sounded comforting. 

* * *

After the mindfulness group, lunch trays were brought to the ward. Marianne got hers and set it on a table near the community room door. Dimitri hadn’t attended the group on mindfulness, but she expected that he’d be there for lunch. The hospital food was bland. It was entirely unseasoned, without so much as salt, and there were never any sweets on the menus. Marianne typically ate just enough of it to quell her hunger, and she never had much of an appetite anyway. 

Dimitri entered the room shortly after Marianne started eating. He got his tray from the cart, then walked over to where Marianne was sitting. “I’m sorry to bother you, Marianne, but may I sit here?” he said.

“Of course. It’s not a bother,” said Marianne. 

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. He sat down and set his tray on the table. “There’s something I have to talk to you about.”

Marianne had a feeling she knew where this was going. “What is it?” she asked anyway.

“Last night, when I talked about myself, about my delusions, did that hurt you? Did I make you feel worse?” he asked. 

“No,” said Marianne. “While I felt sadness for you, truthfully, it made me happy to be trusted. You’ve never been a burden to me.”

“I talked about that today with my psychiatrist. They told me to be more careful about my boundaries, about not imposing myself on other patients,” said Dimitri. “I was wondering, did you say something about that to one of the staff? Nevermind, that’s a foolish question. If you did, you were well within your rights to do so.” 

“I didn’t tell anyone that you were bothering me. I was actually told the same thing, about boundaries,” said Marianne. 

“They didn’t tell you you were a bother to me, did they?” asked Dimitri. He seemed genuinely upset at the idea. 

“No, they just told me I shouldn’t take on too much.” As soon as she said it, Marianne regretted it. Both psychiatrists had framed Dimitri as the problem, as the one who had overstepped. “I think they’re wrong though. You’ve helped me immensely.” 

“I’ve helped you?” Dimitri said incredulously. “All I’ve done is talk about myself.” 

“Yes,” said Marianne. “You helped me. You didn’t get angry with me or try to argue with me when I told you I was cursed; you just gave me a new way to look at things. You told me that I wasn’t alone. You treated me like a friend. I often feel like I don’t do enough to repay you.”

“Please,” said Dimitri, “you don’t have to talk about repaying me. Especially when you’ve been so kind to me. I felt so alone when I came here. But meeting someone who understands and doesn’t fear me has given me so much. I have hope for my future now, and that’s in part thanks to you. The idea that I’m burdening you or that you’re only hiding your fear of me fills me with guilt. Please, if that’s true, I’ll stay away.” 

“It isn’t,” said Marianne vehemently. “You aren’t a burden and I’m not afraid of you. If anything you should be afraid of me. I’m the one with the curse.” 

“I told you that I’m delusional, that I wanted to kill someone, and you say you aren’t afraid of me,” said Dimitri. “I’ll choose to believe you, but I can’t see myself as anything other than a monster. That’s how Gilbert saw me. That’s how anyone who knows sees me.”

“I don’t see you that way,” said Marianne. “I have delusions too. That isn’t why I’m a monster.” 

“Thank you for that. You aren’t a monster either. I suppose we both need convincing,” said Dimitri. 

“That’s why you’ve helped me,” Marianne said. “It’s more helpful to talk to someone else who knows what you’re going through than it is to be told you’re ok by someone who doesn’t understand. And when I tell you that your delusions don’t make you a monster, or that you aren’t a burden for talking to someone about your problems, then maybe I can believe that about myself someday.” 

“That’s how I feel talking to you,” said Dimitri.

“You really aren’t a burden,” said Marianne.

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. “You aren’t either. And you haven’t brought me misfortune at all.” 

“I’m glad,” said Marianne. “Thank you.”

She thought about how Dr. Navarro had talked about putting on oxygen masks. You put on your own one first, and then you help somebody else. But people weren’t like oxygen masks. People were people. Sometimes, helping someone else is also helping yourself. And sometimes, letting someone else help you is also helping them. Sometimes helping another person is exactly the kind of help you need. 

“Marianne,” said Dimitri. “I’m going to be discharged on Wednesday. I’m going back to Fhirdiad. But I’ll never forget everything you did for me.”

“Oh,” said Marianne. “Are you glad?” She remembered he was going to be living with the father of his childhood friends, one of whom was now dead and the other distant. She knew their father, Rodrigue, would be looking out for Dimitri though, and was glad.

“In a sense, yes,” said Dimitri. “I’m ready to start the next chapter of my life. I’ll have Rodrigue with me, and they’re setting me up with an intensive outpatient program. But I’m nervous too. I don’t want to get bad again. And I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m sorry,” said Marianne. She wondered if it would be alright if she gave Dimitri her phone number. Or would he want to just close off this time completely and move on with his life? She couldn’t blame him if he did. He had suffered far more than she had. He’d of course have the option not to call, but even giving him her number felt like pressuring him. 

“You’ve done nothing to be sorry for. On the contrary, you’ve made being here bearable. Really, the first week and a half was quite dreary,” said Dimitri. 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. “I don’t know what I’d do here without you. I’ll probably be discharged soon as well. I’m supposed to see my psychiatrist again later today to make a safety plan.”

“Are you looking forward to going home?” Dimitri asked her.

“Yes, I think so,” said Marianne. “I want to see my friends again. I want to go for a long walk outside and sleep in my own bed and eat decent food.” 

Dimitri smiled. “Yes, I’m looking forward to having more space to walk around too. And Rodrigue always was a wonderful cook. I can’t taste food anymore, but I have fond memories of his cooking.” 

Can’t taste food anymore? Marianne decided not to ask. “Dimitri, what you said last night about needing to make amends with your old friends and the friend you need to find, I hope you can do that,” Marianne said. “I really do.” 

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. “I’m really grateful. I hope you can become close with your old friends again too. I’m glad that you have plans to see them, I really am.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. She thought about seeing Claude, Hilda, and Lorenz again. It made her want to live, at least long enough to smile with them again. “I am too. It gives me hope.” 

“Hope, huh?” said Dimitri. His face was serious as always. “Yes, I think I would call it hope too. Not the kind of hope where you think the world will stop being so bleak, but the kind of hope where you know you don’t have to face that bleakness alone.” 

“I think I can accept that kind of hope,” Marianne said. “I...have a hard time accepting the other kind. It really doesn’t seem that things can get any better sometimes, especially when they just get worse and worse and it’s all my fault. But the idea of not being alone makes it all...not quite so bad.” 

“And you’re not alone, Marianne. Even when we’re both discharged, I’ll remember you. And you’ll have your friends again,” said Dimitri.

“So will you. And I’ll be thinking of you,” said Marianne.

“I hope so. I did them wrong, while I was hurting. And because of that, I lost an irreplaceable friend. I want to make things right,” said Dimitri. 

“Do you have any hope?” asked Marianne.

“Yes I do,” said Dimitri. 

“Then I have hope too, for you and for me,” Marianne said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry the updates are getting more spread out. i'm almost halfway done with this fic i think, but i work fulltime and am a part time university student so i'm super busy rn ;o;


	24. The Plan

Marianne barely made it through the afternoon movement group. She wasn’t graceful, never had been, and a long skirt was hardly the proper attire for yoga. She fell twice, thumping hard on the community room floor each time. At least nobody laughed at her, but she wouldn’t have blamed them, the way she interrupted the calming atmospheric music in the darkened room with the sound of her body smacking against the linoleum. She was glad that after movement came outside time, her favorite part of the day. She’d never take the outside world for granted again, she decided. The ability to step out the door whenever she pleased sounded like a dream to her now. 

Unfortunately for Marianne, there would be no outside time that day. As soon as the lights were turned back on in the community room, Dr. Navarro entered the room, clutching a clipboard. “Marianne, may I speak with you a moment?” she asked. 

Marianne groaned inwardly at the thought of missing her time outdoors, but she followed Dr. Navarro out of the community room towards room 144. 

“So Marianne, I’ve printed out the safety planning sheet. We can go over it together, and then I’ll leave it with you to complete,” Dr. Navarro said as they walked. 

Marianne nodded. She supposed she had to do it at some point. She just wished it hadn’t been now. They reached the door to Marianne’s room and entered. Marianne pulled out a seat for Dr. Navarro and took the other seat for herself. 

“I’ll ask you a few questions. First I want you to think back to a time when your suicidal thoughts were really strong. What were some of the warning signs that things were getting bad?” Dr. Navarro asked. 

Marianne thought. “Um, not talking to Hilda. That’s my roommate. Trying to use things up, I mean, so they won’t be around after I’m dead. Sleeping in my braids. Praying more than once a day for the Goddess to take me. Feeling like I’m hurting people because of my curse. Thinking I’m a burden.” 

“Alright, thank you,” said Dr. Navarro. She began to write on the clipboard, which made Marianne slightly nervous. It reminded her of the way things had gone with Dr. Casagranda. “Now let’s think about some of the coping strategies you have. They can be skills you learned here at GMMC or just things that distract you or make you feel better. Things that will help you when you start to see those warning signs.”

“Going outside,” said Marianne, then immediately wondered if that had sounded too snarky, “You know, going for a walk. Birdwatching. Um, mindfulness. Studying. Reading.” 

“That’s all really good; you’ve done a lot of work on yourself, Marianne,” said Dr. Navarro. 

It was nice to hear someone say it, but the list Marianne had come up with was full of things she’d always done when her mind wouldn’t give her peace. “Thank you,” she said. 

“Now, what are some people or social places that can distract you? This can be a person or a location where other people are,” Dr. Navarro asked. 

“Hilda, Claude, and Lorenz,” said Marianne. “And the coffee shop near the fine arts building at Leicester State.” 

“Do you live in a dorm or off campus?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

“I live off campus, in an apartment,” said Marianne. 

“That’s good to hear. I was wondering if that coffeeshop would still be accessible to you when you graduate. What year are you in school again?” 

“I’m a senior. I’m graduating in May,” said Marianne. Saying it out loud felt strange. It was terrifying to think of. She hadn’t thought it was really happening. She didn’t have a job lined up or even much idea of what she’d like to do other than working with animals or nature somehow. She had always expected to die before she had to figure that stuff out.

“Congratulations, Marianne,” said Dr. Navarro. 

“Oh, thank you,” said Marianne, brought out of her reverie. She considered telling Dr. Navarro about her worries, but decided against it. 

“Now, I want you to think of people you can ask for help. These are different from people who can distract you. These are people you’d feel comfortable opening up to about your problems and asking for comfort or advice or help making your environment safe.” 

Marianne’s first thought was of Dimitri, but he would be in Fhirdiad. There was no point in listing him. But who could she list? She had no one else she felt comfortable sharing her troubles with. Hilda wouldn’t understand, and her relationships with Claude and Lorenz were too tenuous to risk with such a confession. The thought of speaking about such things with her adoptive father was laughable. “I, I don’t know.” 

“Are you sure? Maybe one or two of the people you listed earlier?” asked Dr. Navarro.

Marianne shook her head. She tried to imagine talking to Hilda about how she really felt but found that she couldn’t. Hilda was a friend, yes, but not one who shared in her struggle. 

“Well, then I’d like you to keep thinking. I want you to think of some people to list here. Next is professional resources to call. We can put down Dr. Casagranda now, but you’ll meet with the outpatient coordinator later tonight, and she can help you pick out your other people,” said Dr. Navarro. “What are some ways you can make your environment safer, things you might use to hurt yourself that you can remove from your home?” 

“I could get rid of my razor blades,” offered Marianne. “I don’t think I’d have to get rid of my shaving razor too.” She thought some more. “Also the cord to my bathrobe. That’s what I was going to use to hang myself.” 

“Could you give those items to a friend to keep safe for you?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

“I could probably ask Hilda to hold on to them, yes,” said Marianne. Hilda probably already had the cord to Marianne’s bathrobe if she’d been the one to take it down before Lorenz came to clean. It wouldn’t be too much trouble to give her the razors too.

Dr. Navarro nodded and wrote it down on her clipboard. “That’s good. And one more question: what’s a long term goal that’s worth living for?” 

Marianne thought. At first she wanted to say that it was seeing her friends again, but what about after she saw them? What about after they graduated and possibly moved? Would she still have something to live for? Why did anything make her want to live when she had no right to life? _Goddess give me_ _guidance_. What made her want to live, Marianne realized with a start, was other creatures. Understanding and caring for other living things. Taking care of the horses on the Edmund estate and trying to understand the birds she’d observe. Talking Dimitri through his troubles, wanting to learn more about Claude and Lorenz, wanting to please Hilda: all of that mattered to Marianne. Despite her curse, despite everything holding her back, she truly did want to reach out to other people and animals. “I want…” Marianne trailed off. She didn’t know how to say it. “I want to be a good friend.”

“Is that something that will help you want to live when you’re really struggling?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

Marianne thought again. She couldn’t quite figure out any other way to phrase it. She wanted to connect to other people and to animals. That was what it meant to be a friend, right? “I think so,” Marianne said. 

“Remember what we talked about this morning, about you setting boundaries for yourself and not burning yourself out in relationships,” Dr. Navarro replied. 

Keeping her gaze steady, Marianne answered. “I’ve thought it over, and I don’t think that’s a problem for me. I think I set too many boundaries. I didn’t let people in for a very long time, and that’s what brought me here. That’s how my curse works: I can’t make friends or talk to people, and I end up hurting them when they think I don’t like them. I want to try something different. That’s all.” 

“That’s very insightful of you, Marianne,” said Dr. Navarro. “I’m very impressed that you’ve figured all of that out.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. “Dimitri helped,” she added. 

“I’m glad,” said Dr. Navarro. “But I think you’ve done a lot of the work here. I appreciate you sharing with me how you feel about your boundaries.”

“Thank you,” Marianne said again. 

“I think that making friends and being a good friend to the people you already know is a wonderful goal,” Dr. Navarro said. “Especially considering what you’ve just told me. But don’t forget, you can’t pour from an empty pitcher.”

First oxygen masks and now pitchers. Marianne was starting to wonder how many metaphors there were for the same idea. “I think I’ll be ok. Thank you though,” Marianne said. 

“That’s good,” said Dr. Navarro. “I’ll take this sheet to make a copy, then I’ll leave it in your room for you to go over. Make sure you think of somebody you can ask for help.”

“Thank you,” said Marianne. “I’ll do my best.” 

After Dr. Navarro left, Marianne went to go check the community room to see if she could get there in time for the next group. Unfortunately, it seemed to have already started by the time she arrived, so Marianne returned to her room to find the safety plan sheet lying on her desk. She looked over Dr. Navarro’s small neat handwriting, her own words written out on paper by someone else. She wondered how much more paperwork there was on her here, how many pages had been written about her since she’d come to the psych ward. The empty lines next to the words “someone I can ask for help” stood out plainly. Marianne still had no idea who she could go to. 


	25. I can walk away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter discusses self injury more explicitly than the previous chapters, so I would recommend using caution when reading and not reading while in a negative headspace. I will be posting some resources at the end of this chapter for coping with self harm urges.

Marianne didn’t have time to think of an answer before a knock came at her door. Before she could answer, the door swung open and a woman in a green sweater with a staff member’s nametag entered the room. “Hi Marianne. Are you busy right now?” she asked. 

“No, sorry,” said Marianne. _Why do you keep apologizing_?

“Great! I’m Andrea. I’m our outpatient care coordinator,” said the woman. 

“Oh. Nice to meet you,” said Marianne. 

“So let’s start by talking about what kind of support you’ll need when you’re discharged. Do you have a therapist?” Andrea asked.

Marianne shook her head. 

“Ok, so we’ll definitely want to get you set up with something. You have a psychiatrist though, right?” 

“Yes, Dr. Casagranda,” said Marianne. 

“Great, great. Now, based on Dr. Navarro’s notes, we might want to consider an intensive outpatient program. Those are good if you need a higher level of care than once a week sessions, especially if you need structure,” said Andrea. 

“Um, what happens in an intensive outpatient program?” Marianne asked. She had heard Dimitri say that he’d be doing one, but she still wasn’t sure what they were. 

“Well, it’s kind of like being here, except you go home in the evenings and arrive in the mornings. You go to three or four groups every day and you also have individual therapy and a psychiatrist. They typically last about three to six weeks. Does that answer your question?” 

“Yes, thank you,” said Marianne. That sounded like way too much. “I’m a student though, so that probably wouldn’t be the best idea for me.” 

“Hmm. There’s an option for just going three days a week, or do you have class every day?” asked Andrea.

“I have class every day. I’m sorry,” said Marianne. 

“Well what times are you available then?” said Andrea. “We can work from there.”

Marianne thought over her class schedule. “Between eleven and two on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and then Thursday afternoon. I’m also free on weekends.”

“Well we don’t have anything on the weekends. There is a group that meets on Thursday afternoons. Do you have a history of impulsivity or self injuring behaviors? Of feeling like your emotions get too big for you to handle?” 

The question seemed to come out of nowhere. “Um, yes, sorry,” said Marianne. 

“Ok, then DBT might be a good fit for you. That stands for Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, which is a program that focuses on emotional regulation, mindfulness, distress tolerance, and interpersonal skills. There’s a DBT group with an opening that meets Thursday afternoons from four to five thirty on the GMMC campus, which is why I ask,” said Andrea.

“I like mindfulness,” said Marianne.

“That’s great,” said Andrea. “Mindfulness can be really wonderful. You’ll certainly get a lot of that in DBT. Do you want me to get you signed up for the DBT group? Your projected discharge date is Wednesday, so you could go this coming Thursday once I get the paperwork through.” 

“Um, ok,” said Marianne. She thought about how long she’d had languished on the waitlist to see Dr. Casagranda. It was amazing how quickly this was moving, compared to the two months she had had to wait then. 

“Does that sound good to you? It would be at four o’clock the day after your discharge, in building FF, with Dr. Eisner. I can write all this down on their card for you so it’s easier for you to remember. Dr. Eisner will probably want to meet with you individually sometime in the next week too.”

“Yes, that sounds alright,” said Marianne. She wondered if her curse would affect the other people in group, but then again, she had been in the hospital for almost five days now, and hadn’t seen her curse manifest in anyone here. Maybe it was less dangerous than she thought. “Thank you for offering to write it down.” 

“Of course. I actually brought one of Dr. Eisner’s cards with me, because I got the sense from Dr. Navarro’s notes that you’d do well in DBT. I’ll write this down for you now.” Andrea walked over to the desk and leaned down to write on the card. 

She handed it to Marianne: on one side of the card were the words “Byleth Eisner / LCSW / they/them/theirs” and a telephone number. On the other side was written in Andrea’s ballpoint, “Thu. 3/23 4 pm.”

“Thank you,” said Marianne. 

“You’re totally welcome! Have a great rest of your evening,” said Andrea. She turned to go.

“You too,” said Marianne as Andrea left. Afterwards, Marianne stared down at the little card. One thing that Marianne knew about herself was that if she said she was going to be in a certain place at a certain time, she would be there. Unless something totally unforeseen happened, she’d go where she was supposed to. This was a commitment, the same way that she’d been unable to kill herself until after she’d kept her appointment with Dr. Casagranda. 

On top of that, this meant that Marianne was going home. She had only two more nights in the ward, just one more full day. She would be able to go outside when she wanted to, go back to class, sleep in her own bed, eat food with seasoning, get a pastry at the cafe outside the fine arts building, wear real pajamas, use bobby pins and metal silverware, drink tea from a mug instead of a styrofoam cup, and so much more. 

But this also meant she’d be back to her real life. Back to being unable to keep her room tidy or do up her braids every day. Back to being with people who couldn’t understand her. Her curse wasn’t cured. She hadn’t magically learned to talk to people or become able to think about her future without wishing she would just die instead. And everything she had to do to get better, talking to people, figuring out what she wanted from the future, continuing to take her meds, trying to think things through differently, even keeping the appointment on Thursday… all of it seemed suddenly overwhelming and frightening. 

Marianne grabbed Dorte the stuffed horse from her blanket nest and squished him in her arms. She missed the horses at her adoptive father’s house. She wanted to ride far away from all her problems, just escape everything. She wanted to die again, to enter into the Goddess’s light and never have to worry about anything ever. Goddess, why did she always want to die?  _ Why do you allow a soul who wants to die to live? _ Was there a reason behind this, was the Goddess testing her or saving her for something special, or was the answer that there was no plan, no benevolent omnipotence in the heavens? 

Marianne shook her head. She could see the road on which this line of questioning would lead her, and she didn’t want it. She didn’t want what came after, the horrible twisting guilt like a blade in her stomach. The guilt that made her grab a real blade and stand over the sink with the bathroom door locked.  _ Not now. Not here _ . Not when she had no way to relieve herself of the feeling. She squeezed Dorte harder to her chest and grit her teeth.  _ I can walk away. I can walk away from things I know will hurt me _ . She stopped, then said it again.  _ I don’t have to do this _ .  _ I can come back later. When it feels right _ . 

Marianne knew where the art supplies were kept in the community room. She’d seen them get put away after art therapy the previous day. She put Dorte down on the bed, then walked out the door of her room and past the nurses’ station, swiping a brochure for a support group from the desk as she walked. _I can walk away_. The group on stress management was still going, but Marianne would be quiet and not disturb anyone. She walked around the tables full of other patients, looking down at the floor, scarcely noticing Dimitri’s nod. I can walk away. She opened the cabinet beneath the water heater, and pulled out the plastic tub of crayons. _I can walk away._ Slowly and quietly, Marianne closed the cabinet and sat herself at the one empty table at the back. The therapist continued talking about the importance of sticking to a regular sleep schedule. Marianne cracked open the lid of the box, louder than she meant to, and pulled out a crayon. The color didn’t matter to her; at random she chose green. She pressed hard into the front of the brochure and drew a squiggle. She kept going. The group continued as Marianne colored in the entire front of the brochure, pressing the crayon so hard she thought she might break it. 

The more she colored, the more the gnawing, throbbing of the guilt resolved into a dull ache. She had blasphemed against the Goddess. She was cursed, and she couldn’t imagine a future where she was happy. It hurt. But it hurt in the same way it always did, albeit more intensely. It hurt in a way she could accept. In a way she could live with, at least for the time being. 

The group ended without Marianne noticing. People had begun getting their trays from the cart and bringing them back into the room by the time she finished coloring in the brochure. Marianne wasn’t hungry; she was exhausted. But she had survived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're dealing with self injury urges, I recommend giving this list of alternatives a look: https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-truth-about-exercise-addiction/201708/15-things-do-instead-self-harming
> 
> There's also a crisis text line at 741741 where they can walk you through coping healthily with self harm urges.


	26. Friendship

“Marianne, is it alright if I sit with you?” 

Marianne looked up from her coloring. Dimitri was standing by her table with his tray. “Oh, yes,” said Marianne. “I’m sorry I’ll put this away.” She got up to return the box of crayons to its place on the shelf. 

When Marianne returned to the table with her tray, Dimitri was sitting, eating his mashed potatoes. “What were you drawing?” he asked.

“Oh, I was just scribbling,” said Marianne, unsure of how much she felt ready to share. “I was feeling odd, like I had to do something.” 

“Is it like how you felt on the medication?” asked Dimitri.

“No, not like that,” said Marianne. She still felt too delicate to go into detail. The need to punish herself had faded, but it wasn’t gone completely. “I’m doing better now.” She took a bite of her salad. 

“Ah, I’m glad,” said Dimitri. “Do you like to draw?”

Marianne shook her head. “I hadn’t in a long time, and I’m not very good at it.”

“Me neither,” said Dimitri. “But the nurses’ station has coloring pages at it, and I’ve tried with those a few times, when I’m afraid to sleep.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” said Marianne. She wished she had known about them sooner. That would probably have been a better idea than scribbling all over a brochure. 

“What do you like to do?” said Dimitri. “In your spare time, I mean.”

Marianne answered, “I enjoy birdwatching and hiking. Also, my adoptive father has horses, and when I lived with him, I used to enjoy caring for them a great deal. I also like to read. I’m sorry, but I’m rather boring.” 

“I don’t think that’s boring at all,” said Dimitri. “It seems like you know a lot about animals and the natural world. That’s a wonderful thing to know about.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne. “What about you?” she added. “What do you like to do?”

“Hm, I’m trying to figure that out,” said Dimitri. “In high school, I played lacrosse and fenced, but I haven’t done either in a long time. I also really enjoyed helping my friend in his garden.” 

“Gardening sounds nice,” said Marianne. She had often wanted to garden, but feared that her curse would affect anything she grew.

“I’m not sure if it was the gardening I enjoyed or the company,” said Dimitri. “I remember I liked the labor of it though. One time I helped him clear a ton of garlic mustard out of the back of his backyard to make space for him to grow more vegetables, and I really enjoyed the feeling of getting something done.” 

“Garlic mustard,” said Marianne. She’d heard of it before. “That’s an invasive species, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” said Dimitri. “It’s edible though.”

“Oh I didn’t know that,” said Marianne. “I suppose that fits with the name. Have you tried it? What does it taste like?” Too late, Marianne remembered that Dimitri had said he couldn’t taste food. 

“Yes, I’ve had it. I got hungry about halfway through clearing the area, so I picked some of the leaves and ate them. I couldn’t tell you what they taste like, but they have a garlicky smell,” Dimitri answered. 

Marianne let out a chuckle at the image of Dimitri pausing in the middle of weeding to take a bite of the weeds before he continued working. 

“I’m glad you find it funny,” said Dimitri. “My friend told me to stop in such a tired voice that I did, but I knew they weren’t poisonous. I’d looked them up the night before to get a better sense of the leaf shape I was looking for.”

“You took your work seriously,” said Marianne. 

“Of course,” said Dimitri. “I wanted to be of help.” 

“You’re a good friend,” said Marianne. She paused. “I hope you can see your friend with the garden again. Maybe he still has the garden and you can see what it looks like now.”

“Maybe,” said Dimitri. “I caused him an awful lot of trouble. Besides, he’s the one I’ve been unable to find. He doesn’t seem to have any social media and he no longer lives at the same address where he grew the garden.” 

“Oh,” said Marianne. No, she wouldn’t let Dimitri feel despair over this. He had sounded so happy, talking about better times. “I hope you can see him again anyway. And I hope the garden is still there, whether you get to see it or not.” 

“Thank you, Marianne,” Dimitri said. “I hope so too.” 

* * *

After dinner, Hilda arrived as usual, bearing tea. Marianne was looking forward to her visit today, having something to tell her.

“I’m going to be discharged on Wednesday,” she said, after she took her cup of chai. 

“Cool! Do you know what time your meeting is?” asked Hilda.

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” said Marianne, deflating. Of course she had forgotten to ask, like the stupid, worthless excuse for a person she was. “I’m sorry”

“Well, let’s go ask them to schedule one for you,” said Hilda. “Come on.”

“My psychiatrist already went home for the day,” said Marianne. She didn’t know for sure if it was true, but she guessed it was. She’d never seen Dr. Navarro around the ward at night. 

“Then we can ask the nurses, like we did yesterday. They might know since it’s about scheduling,” said Hilda. “Don’t give up so easily.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Marianne. “I’m sorry I always make you do things for me.” It was true. Hilda was lazy and avoided any task she could, except when it came to Marianne. Then she took care of things, from cleaning the kitchen to making plans with friends, it always came back to Hilda. 

“You’re not making me do anything,” said Hilda. “I just want to know when your meeting is.”

“I’m sorry,” said Marianne again. Something came to her. “Wait, I’m sorry, but if I ask for it to be in the morning, will you be able to come? You don’t have any classes in the morning.”

“Yeah, but that’s when I sleep,” said Hilda. 

“I’m sorry, it was just a thought,” said Marianne. 

“Nah, if it’s for you, I could come. Just not before ten.” Hilda laughed. “And I can’t do tomorrow. I’m going to the movies Caspar after this, so.” 

“So then, I’m sorry, but could you do Wednesday morning? Are you sure that would be ok?” asked Marianne. “What movie are you seeing?” 

“They’re showing the original dub of  _ My Neighbor Totoro _ in the campus theatre. And yeah, Wednesday works,” said Hilda. “I mean, after ten.” She grinned. “Good thinking, Marianne. Now you just need to remember to ask.”

“I’ll remember,” said Marianne. “I promise.”

“Good,” said Hilda. “If you’re leaving Wednesday, my first class isn’t until two, so I could probably get someone to drive you home with me after the meeting. Maybe Claude? We have class together.”

“Oh, um, that would be really nice,” said Marianne. “If he doesn’t have anything to do. I can take the bus just fine if he’s busy.” 

“I’ll ask him,” said Hilda. “By the way, I told him about why you’re in the hospital, like you said I could.”

“What did he say?” asked Marianne. She had been so confident in her decision to let Claude know earlier, thinking it would bring them closer together, but now she felt worried that he would think of her as weak, untrustworthy, or dangerous. Especially if he ever found out she had delusions. Or what if her opening up to him also meant that he would become affected by her curse?

“He said he hoped you felt better and to tell you that if you ever wanted to talk about stuff, he’d listen. He’s a really nice guy.” Hilda took a sip of her coffee. 

“Yes he is,” said Marianne, relieved. “Thank you.” She wouldn’t know how to talk to Claude about her curse or about her depression, but she felt better about putting Claude on her safety plan as someone she could go to for distraction. She wouldn’t feel like as much of a burden talking to someone who wanted her around. 

“You’re welcome?” said Hilda. “He also asked if you had his number.”

“I think I do,” answered Marianne. “I can’t check my phone though.” 

“That’s ok. If it turns out you don’t, I can send it to you. I’ll ask him about taking me to your meeting on Wednesday morning too. When I come tomorrow, let me know if anything changes in the plans.” 

Hilda said it so casually, but Marianne realized that she had said “when I come,” not “if.” There was never any question to Hilda about whether she would visit Marianne. Hilda, who hated getting out of bed before noon, who never studied more than she could help, who only did chores after Marianne had failed to complete them, had visited Marianne every single day she was in the hospital. Hilda had brought Marianne her things, had arranged for her room to be cleaned, had talked to Claude and Lorenz for her, had gotten rides to and from the hospital, and had never once complained about it. Hilda, of all people, had been willing to put in work for Marianne. There was nothing she could think of to repay her.  _ Goddess, what have I done to deserve such kindness? _

“Thank you,” Marianne said. “Thank you so much for coming.” It wasn’t enough, but for now it would have to do. 

“Of course,” said Hilda. “I’m your friend. This is what friends do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a fic with Dimitri in it, he has to eat the weeds.


	27. Selfish

Marianne woke up in her blanket nest the next morning sore and gloomy. It was her last full day in the hospital, and Marianne was unsure if her life would be any better than it was before. She could easily see herself slipping back into her depression and her self-imposed isolation. Hilda’s kindness, Claude’s understanding, Lorenz’s gifts: what had she done to deserve any of that? She was cursed, a blasphemer, useless to everyone around her. But they didn’t want her to die. Despite everything wrong with her, everything that should have made her unbearable to be around, Marianne had people who cared about her. She owed it to them not to cloister herself away. Her friends were waiting for her. 

But there was someone else she’d be leaving. Marianne had only known him a few days, less than a week, but he had changed so much about the way she thought. He’d been the first person who’d told her she didn’t have to fake happy. The first person she knew who understood her. Dimitri would be leaving the hospital the next day too, but he would be going back to Fhirdiad. He had his own friends he’d get to see again and his own future to figure out. Marianne was lucky that their paths had even crossed. It was just a fluke that they’d even met, and she should be grateful that it had happened rather than sad that they would have to part ways. That was what Marianne told herself as she disentangled her body from her blankets and knelt to pray. 

Again, Marianne used the abbreviated form of her prayer, without the request to die that day. Yes, she was sad, yes she hated herself, but that didn’t mean she wanted to die right now. She had washed her hair the previous night, so she didn’t have the option of just wearing yesterday’s braids. Today, she decided to try a braided bun again. She wanted to have fun doing up her hair again, and she was good at it. It would feel a little loose without the bobby pins, but she could make do. She didn’t have to pretend to be happy; Dimitri had taught her that, but that didn’t mean she had to let depression prevent her from doing things she genuinely enjoyed. 

After getting her vitals taken on the way there, Marianne went to the community room to have breakfast. As usual, she was one of the first ones there. She made tea and brought her tray to an empty table. She had brought her book with her, just in case nobody wanted to sit with her, so she opened it to read as she ate. Still, she saw Dimitri enter in her periphery. She looked up and nodded to him. He returned her nod, but when he took his tray, he walked over to a different table to eat alone. Something inside of Marianne felt heavy, seeing this. Of course he could eat where he wanted, and she had brought a book with her after all, but still, after tomorrow, she’d never get to talk to him again.  _ Stop being so selfish _ , Marianne scolded herself.  _ He has his own life, his own worries and his own plans for the future _ . Why would he want a worthless person like her around? Marianne kept her eyes on her book as she finished her breakfast, but she didn’t absorb a single word. 

On her way out of the community room, Marianne made herself a second cup of tea to take with her. She carried it with her to the medication room, which was open when she got there. She walked up to the counter at the back, where a nurse was waiting. Marianne remembered him as Aaron, who had helped her with her shower curtain on her first night in the ward.

“Good morning,” said Aaron. “Here for your meds?” 

“Good morning,” Marianne replied. She extended her arm so he could scan her wristband. 

“Alright, five miligram tablet of an atypical antipsychotic and a ten miligram tablet of an SSRI. Any voices?” Aaron asked. He turned around and reached into a filing cabinet to pull out a plastic bag with two pills inside.

“Thank you,” said Marianne. “And no, sorry.”  _ Why are you apologizing for that _ ? 

“Glad to hear it,” said Aaron. “Here you go.” He passed her a paper cup containing two pills and a paper cup full of water. 

Marianne prayed briefly to the Goddess, then took her pills. 

“All set?” asked Aaron. 

“Yes, thank you,” Marianne said. She left the medication room and went back into her room to have her tea and wait for Dr. Navarro. She knew by now what to expect of her mornings. It was funny how she’d only really gotten used to it when she would be leaving soon. 

While she waited, Marianne drank her tea and tried to read, but her mind kept wandering, and she kept catching herself tapping her foot. She decided to try to repeat the mindfulness exercises she had learned, the emptying of her mind of all thoughts to focus solely on the sensations of breathing. Closing her book, Marianne closed her eyes and found a comfortable position in her chair. As she zeroed in on the sensations of her body, her breathing slowed, but the uncomfortable urge to tap her foot remained. She decided she wouldn’t try to fight it, but rather just accept it and be aware of the sensation. 

Marianne’s eyes were still closed when the sound of her door opening broke her focus. Startled, she turned quickly to see Dr. Navarro enter the room. “Hello Marianne. Do you have a moment to chat?” she asked. 

“Yes, thank you,” Marianne said. She remembered her conversation with Hilda from the previous night about planning her discharge meeting for Wednesday morning after ten. She’d have to ask about that. 

“Wonderful.” Dr. Navarro pulled up the chair from the other desk. “You met with Andrea yesterday, right? She said that she got you referred to start DBT the day after your discharge. You’re very lucky that you can start so soon; usually there’s a waitlist. There just happened to be an opening in the Thursday group.” 

“I’m sorry,” said Marianne. 

“What are you apologizing for? I think DBT is a good fit for you.”

“I’m sorry for taking space that could go to someone else. Someone who won’t bring misfortune on everyone in the group,” said Marianne and immediately regretted it.  _ Goddess, forgive me for speaking so plainly _ . 

“Well, this just means that our system is working how it’s supposed to work. People coming out of the inpatient unit, people with the highest need, are always moved to the top of the waitlist. Usually this means the wait time is a few weeks, but you were at the exact right time when somebody graduated from the group,” Dr. Navarro said.

Hearing that only made Marianne feel worse. She’d been moved to the top of the waitlist. That meant there were people behind her, people who deserved help so much more than she did. People who weren’t burdens. People who weren’t cursed.

“I also want to talk to you about your medications. You’re currently on very low doses, below the therapeutic threshold, and it seems you’re still experiencing psychotic symptoms. Would you be okay with increasing the dose?” asked Dr. Navarro. 

Marianne thought. “Will that make the side effects worse?” she asked.

“Are you experiencing side effects already?” 

“Just the restlessness,” said Marianne. 

“Well, since you’re taking them in the morning, that isn’t a problem anymore. If you’re not experiencing any serious side effects now, you likely won’t at a slightly higher dose,” Dr. Navarro said. “We just want to find that point where they work for you.”

“How will I know when they work?” Marianne asked. 

“You’ll feel less depressed and experience more positive emotions. You’ll also be able to appraise your situation regarding being cursed more realistically.”

Marianne could accept that outcome. After all, being able to look at things realistically meant that, if her curse was more than a delusion, she’d still be able to think about it and act accordingly. “That would be fine,” she said. “If we increased the dose.”

“Wonderful,” said Dr. Navarro. “It looks like we’ll be able to wrap up before the first group of the day today.” She got up from her seat to leave. 

Marianne took a deep breath. “Um, I have something else I need to talk about, I’m sorry.” 

“Yes?”

“My discharge meeting is tomorrow. Would it be okay to have it at ten thirty in the morning?” Marianne felt so selfish asking, but she had to, for Hilda’s sake. 

“Oh, I had forgotten about that.” Dr. Navarro turned back around. “I typically meet with patients in the mornings, so it would have to be later in the day.”

_ Think of Hilda and Claude. They’re counting on you.  _ “My roommate has class at two, so my meeting has to be before then if she’s going to be able to make it.” Marianne’s heart was pounding furiously in her chest, but she spoke her piece anyway. 

“Are you absolutely sure? No other time works?” Dr. Navarro asked. 

“I’m sure,” said Marianne. “We discussed this yesterday during visiting hours. It has to be after ten and over before two.” 

“Well in that case, I think I could move some meetings around. Would eleven thirty be acceptable for you?” Dr. Navarro conceded. 

“Yes, that works fine. Thank you,” said Marianne. She let out a breath. She’d done it. All on her own, Marianne had asked for something she needed, and had gotten someone to give in. She was almost proud of herself, despite her shame at being an inconvenience to Dr. Navarro and her other patients. 

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow morning to make sure that you aren’t having any side effects, then again at eleven thirty. Have a good day, now.” With that, Dr. Navarro left Marianne’s room and the meeting was over. 

* * *

For the first time since coming to the hospital, Marianne made it on time to the first group of the day. The topic was “vulnerability factors” or circumstances that make a person more vulnerable to their negative emotions. Marianne took notes, listing hunger, lack of sleep, boredom, and stress in her notebook as potential reasons why a mild inconvenience could become a major upset. The rest of the group focussed on ways to reduce these factors, such as getting a good night’s rest, eating regular healthy meals, and following a schedule. Marianne’s foot continued tapping, almost of its own accord, for the entire group. 


	28. Chapter 28

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home tomorrow?” Dimitri asked her. 

Dimitri and Marianne were sitting together in the community room at lunch. Marianne was having vegetable soup and Dimitri was, for some reason, actually eating the chalky and flavorless mashed potatoes. 

“I think I’m going to unpack, then I’ll lie in my own bed, and then I’ll go for a walk,” Marianne said. It would be the middle of the day, but Marianne missed her bed more than almost anything else. “What about you?” 

Dimitri nodded. “Going for a walk sounds nice. I think I’m going to use a computer. I got rid of my phone a few years ago because I was scared it was being used to track me, so I only used the internet at libraries. I’ll definitely unpack first, though, and move into my new room.” 

“That’s right, you’ll be in Rodrigue’s house,” said Marianne. 

“Yes. And I’ve gotten set up with a partial hospitalization program, so I’ll be doing that during the day. I’ll be looking for a job too.” Dimitri took another bite of the mashed potatoes. 

“That’s good,” said Marianne. “I hope you find a really good job.”

“Thanks,” said Dimitri. “I’m a bit nervous. I did manage to finish high school, and I’m fairly strong physically, but I don’t have any employment history.” 

“If you’re in a program and you’re living with Rodrigue, then you’ll have time to figure out a job,” Marianne said. It felt wrong to give hollow encouragement, tell him things would be fine with certainty. Still, it was true that he wouldn’t be operating on a terribly strict timetable. “I don’t have much job experience either. I’ve only had an internship for one semester before I quit.”

“Why did you quit?” asked Dimitri.

“I felt like I was weighing everyone else down,” Marianne admitted. “Me and my curse.” Yes, that was the real reason she’d quit. She had told her adoptive father and Hilda it was because she needed more time for studying, but that hadn’t been true. 

“Your curse took you away from your work,” Dimitri said. 

Marianne remembered how Dimitri had told her that her curse worked by pushing her away from others, making her believe she would cause them misfortune. “Yes,” said Marianne. “I graduate in three months, and I have no idea what I’m going to do after college.” 

“I understand,” said Dimitri. “When it takes everything in you just to make it through the day, you have nothing left to plan for the future, or even to discover what you want your future to be. I hope that once I’m settled in with Rodrigue and have a job, I can start making plans for what I want to do. I want to give back to the world, but I’m not sure how.” 

“Me too,” said Marianne. “I want to help people feel less alone, but I don’t know how. I don’t even know if that has anything to do with work, or if there’s any kind of job where I can do that. I really never gave it much thought.”  _ I assumed I wouldn’t live that long _ , she thought to herself. That was changing now. Now she really had to think about the future. 

“That’s an admirable goal,” said Dimitri. “But I don’t think you need any particular job for that. That’s something you can do no matter what job you end up finding.”

“I also want to work with animals,” Marianne said. 

“That sounds lovely,” said Dimitri. “I had dogs growing up. Still, I do get a bit nervous around smaller ones. I worry I might harm them.” 

“Oh, I see,” said Marianne. “My adoptive father had horses. I’ve always loved horses and birds.”

“Oh, were you one of those children who pretended to be a horse?” Dimitri asked. His face remained serious, but his tone made Marianne wonder if he was teasing her. 

“I… I didn’t, no,” she said cautiously. “I would just talk to them, tell them about my day. It’s easier to talk to animals, and the Goddess…” Marianne trailed off. She was going to say “than people” but she worried Dimitri would get the wrong idea, that she didn’t want to talk to him. It wasn’t even true for him; he was oddly easy to talk to. 

“Ah, I’m sorry, I was thinking of a few of my friends, who used to pretend to be horses,” said Dimitri. “I think it’s wonderful that you can be friends with animals. They can be so comforting when other humans are more difficult.” 

“I agree,” Marianne said. “You said you had pet dogs?” Maybe someday, in the future, she’d have lots of animal friends, even if she didn’t have enough space for a horse. Maybe she should get a pet bird or two, depending on whether she got a social species. Once she got her future figured out, she could live in a house full of life, where she wouldn’t feel lonely. 

“As a child, yes, but after my father died, my uncle gave them away,” said Dimitri sadly. “He said he couldn’t care for them. I offered to walk and feed them myself, but looking back, that wouldn’t have been enough. It’s a lot of work to take care of one dog, much less two.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Marianne. “That must have been very hard for you.” She thought of how much Dimitri had lost: the father and the friend who had died, the friends he had grown apart from, and now even his childhood dogs. Marianne had lost her parents too. They had loss in common. 

“It certainly made things harder, but there was nothing I could do. I won’t get them back, but I still like dogs.”

“Maybe, once you have your own home, you can have a dog again. It won’t be the same, but if you still like dogs, it could be nice,” Marianne suggested. She was thinking of her own hopes to have a pet bird someday, and it occurred to her that she had never had a dog. She didn’t know very much about them, but they had to get along well enough with birds, right?  _ No, you have no reason to be thinking like that. Why are you acting like your future is at all connected to his, when after tomorrow you won’t even see each other again? Goddess, forgive me. _

* * *

After lunch was art therapy. Marianne and Dimitri both decided to attend that day, so they waited in the community room after they had finished their lunches. “This is actually my first time doing the art therapy since coming here,” Dimitri told her as they waited, drinking tea. “I’ve come to help clean up a few times, but I’ve never actually done the art.”

“I came a few days ago. It was kind of nice,” Marianne said. 

“Did they tell you what to draw?” Dimitri asked. “I’m a terrible artist. My ideas always look much better in my head than they do on paper.”

“Not exactly,” said Marianne. “Last time, I was simply told to draw what made me happy. It didn’t look like much of anything, so I threw it away.”

“Did you enjoy drawing it?” asked Dimitri.

“I, I suppose I did. I realized something important,” conceded Marianne. She had realized something else important while scribbling the previous night, that if she could distract herself from her guilt, it would ebb away. That was why she was attending art therapy today. 

“Then it was a good thing you went. Maybe we can both get something out of today’s art therapy too,” Dimitri said. 

Lydia, the art therapist, arrived just then, bearing plastic tubs of crayons, paints, and paper, and Dimitri went to help her arrange it on the tables at the center of the room. Other patients trickled into the room and settled themselves into chairs. After everyone was seated and Dimitri returned to Marianne’s table, Lydia began to speak. 

“For today’s art therapy, I’d like you all to think about your mood in terms of weather. What weather pattern best represents how you’re feeling? I’d like you all to think about this for a minute, then draw your internal weather. You can use any materials we have in this room.”

For a moment, everyone sat in their seats, then people began to gravitate towards the tables full of supplies. Marianne stayed in her seat thinking. How was she feeling? It was easy to say “bad” or “horrible” but how true was that? She felt the press of time, her own movement into a future that she hadn’t been able to imagine for herself until now. And yet time went on regardless, and Marianne remained alive. But how did that make her feel? And what did that have to do with weather?

Whatever. She didn’t have to know how it all made her feel. She just had to draw it. She just had to draw something. Marianne walked to the center table and brought back a large piece of white paper and a handful of crayons. Still embarrassed by her earlier foolishness, she decided to start by drawing a bird. A bird in flight, not one in a cage in her future home or sitting on a branch in the courtyard outside, not part of a flock, flying alone.  _ Just as alone as I will be soon _ , Marianne thought to herself. 

What came out on the paper didn’t look much like a bird at all, but Marianne knew what it was meant to be. Maybe it was better that way, if no one else could tell what she was trying to do.  _ If I’m that bird, alone and being pushed towards the future, what kind of sky am I flying through? _ It was easier to think of it like that, than to sort out her feelings and then translate to something like the weather. 

That sense of being pushed forward, relentlessly and inescapably, perhaps it could be compared to a strong wind. Time went on in a singular direction, not caring whether Marianne felt any hope or whether she wanted to go on. It didn’t matter that she had friends to stay alive for, the hope to someday help people, or such apprehension about graduating. It didn’t matter that she would soon have to part from the only person who understood her. She was being buoyed forward, complicated feelings or not. The least she could do was try to fly with it. 

Marianne had no idea how to draw wind. Still, no matter how she chose to depict it, there was no way it would be any less successful than her attempt at drawing a bird. She settled for drawing streaks of color on the paper around the outline, like streamers. It was relaxing to draw like this, to only need to make lines on a paper. Art didn’t have to look good to be helpful. It didn’t have to make sense to anyone else. Her drawing was hers, and it had helped her understand her feelings about the future. That was enough. 


	29. Constance

It was raining that day, but Marianne went outside anyway. She needed a moment of fresh air. After she got home, she’d be able to go outside whenever she wanted, and Marianne would never take that for granted again. Most of the other patients decided to stay in, preferring to avoid getting their socks soaked. Dimitri went out with her, and the two walked together, around the edges of the courtyard. 

“You know how the air smells different after the rain?” Dimitri said as they walked. “I wonder why that is.”

“I read somewhere that it’s because humid air carries scents better,” said Marianne. “So the after-rain smell is just the normal smell of things, but because of the moisture in the air, it smells stronger to us.”

“In that case, animals with stronger noses probably live in worlds that smell like that all the time. What an interesting way to live.” 

Water dripped down the back of Marianne’s blouse. “Well, they can distinguish between scents better too. Animals like mice or dogs can tell where each smell is coming from and how far away it is. It’s an entire way of seeing the world. For us though, all those smells just mix together and become the after-rain smell.” 

Dimitri nodded. He seemed genuinely interested in what Marianne had to say. Usually, when she talked about animals, she felt like she was being boring or immature, but Dimitri made her feel like what she was saying mattered. She was going to miss him. 

* * *

When they went back in, one of the therapists asked Marianne if she had a moment. “Um, sure,” Marianne said. She really hoped they hadn’t changed their mind about her being able to go home. She didn’t know what she would do if they had.

“We have a new admit today, and she’s going to be sharing your room with you. Is that ok?” she said.

That wasn’t what Marianne had been expecting. Still, it shouldn’t have been a surprise, given how long the bed on the other side of the room had been empty. “That’s ok, yes.”

“Her name is Constance. You’ll only be staying here one more night, so we figured you were the best person for her to share a room with.” 

“Oh, ok.” That was all Marianne could think of to say. She wanted to meet her new roommate, but found herself worrying about it too. What kind of state would Constance be in if she had just arrived at the hospital; would Marianne know the right thing to say? Would Constance even want to talk to her at all? What if she accidentally said something awful? Would she just make her time at the hospital even worse? 

“You should be fine. She’s probably not in your room yet; do you remember how long your intake interview took? Also my next group is starting in about five minutes if you want to go to that. It’s on how to maintain the progress you make while you’re here. I think it’s a good idea to go to that group if you’re going to be discharged soon. I’ll see you there” With that, the therapist walked back towards the community room. 

Marianne had already decided to go to that group, considering that she’d be heading home again soon, but it would be especially nice to have something to do while waiting to meet her new roommate. Something to take her mind off her worries about Constance. Marianne headed to the community room to make herself tea before the group, but as the teabag was steeping, it occurred to her that none of the worries that had arisen earlier were about her curse. 

* * *

The group on maintaining progress was mostly about self care. Self care was how Hilda explained spending over a hundred dollars on bath bombs and lotion, but that wasn’t all it meant. Self care also referred to anything that helped you grow as a person. Relaxing, doing comforting things, and having fun could help you grow because it would make you less stressed, but so could doing less appealing things, like taking out the garbage, buying vegetables to cook a healthy meal with, or taking your meds. In the hospital, the therapist explained, the patients had very little choice but most of their basic needs were met. There was staff around to make sure that the patients ate healthy food, got enough sleep in a comfortable bed (Marianne had to hold her tongue at that), were given their medications at the appointed times, and lived in a clean environment. But when they all went home, they would have to do all that for themselves. Not only that, but they would have to keep thinking about their treatment plans, keep going to appointments, keep doing all the hard work of fighting back against their symptoms. And to do all of that, they would have to take care of themselves. Be kind to themselves. 

_ But what if I don’t deserve it _ , Marianne found herself wondering, as she wrote everything down. Wasn’t it better to simply trust in the Goddess and refuse to indulge herself? No, Marianne decided. That was what she had done all her life, and look where it got her. Even if she didn’t deserve it, maybe taking care of herself, putting in effort and really trying would make it so that she wasn’t such a burden on others. If it had the added benefit of making her life more bearable, that would be nice too. 

* * *

By the time the group on self care and maintaining progress ended, the dinner carts had been pushed up outside the community room. Marianne and Dimitri left the group together to get their dinners. For both of them, this was the last time they’d eat dinner in the ward. “I’m looking forward to cooking for myself again,” she told Dimitri as they got their plates. “I never do anything fancy though.” 

Dimitri nodded. “I’m glad you’ll get to be home soon to cook again. I wonder if I’ll be asked to help Rodrigue in the kitchen. If there’s a recipe to follow I should be fine. Maybe he’ll just tell me what to do.” 

The two of them sat down at a table near the door. Other patients who had not attended the group began arriving too. Marianne kept her eyes out for people she didn’t recognize, people who might be new arrivals. Dimitri followed her gaze to the door, so she decided to explain. “I’m getting a roommate tonight. Someone new here.” 

“Just for one night?” 

“So after I leave tomorrow, she’ll have the room to herself. Have you had a roommate here?” Marianne asked. 

Dimitri shook his head. “No. I’m in a single room, actually. I don’t think they’d want to give someone with homicidal ideation a roommate.” 

“That does make sense, I think,” said Marianne. A woman whom Marianne had never seen before was walking down the hall now. She had blonde hair with a violet underside and was wearing a red dress and hospital socks. She stopped to find her tray, and continued on into the community room. In a moment of bravery, Marianne forced herself to make eye contact with her and give her a smile. Even if this wasn’t Constance, she was definitely new, and would probably be feeling alone and intimidated by dinner in the community room. It was the least Marianne could do to make her feel welcome. 

As Marianne had both hoped and feared, the new woman walked up to her table. “Mind if I sit here?” she asked, smiling. 

“Oh, um, not at all,” said Marianne. 

“Fine by me,” said Dimitri.

“Of course.” The new woman set down her tray and took a seat. “I’m Constance. Pleased to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you, Constance. I’m Dimitri.” 

“Um, I’m pleased to meet you too. I’m Marianne.” So this was her new roommate. Marianne’s nerves came crashing back. Why had she made Constance come over here to sit with her? It was bad enough for Constance that she’d have to share a room with someone as useless as her. 

“You’re Marianne? I think we’ll be sharing a room, room 144, right?” Constance said. 

Marianne stared down at her plate. “Yes, that’s my room. Sorry you’re stuck with me.”

Dimitri raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m sure I can make the best of things. By the way, are you responsible for the pile of sheets on the floor?” asked Constance.

“Sorry. Yes, I’ve been sleeping there,” said Marianne. 

“You’re so silly! Why aren’t you sleeping in the bed?” Constance let out a peel of laughter.

Marianne wanted to speak, but when she opened her mouth, no sound would come out.  _ Of course. Constance thinks you’re weird. Constance hates you. Constance would be happier if you were dead _ . 

Fortunately, Dimitri jumped in. “Oh you sleep on the floor? That’s clever.” He turned to Constance. “The beds here aren’t the most comfortable.” 

“Really? Are they so bad that the floor is preferable? Well that simply won’t do,” said Constance. She took a bite of her food and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “This is awful! Is this place really all that bad? I suppose I’ll just have to grin and bear it.”

Marianne felt sorry for Constance, who had clearly expected far better than what she was getting. “The salads haven’t been terrible,” she said. “And at breakfast, you can get cereal, which they can’t mess up.” 

“Hmph, cereal,” said Constance disdainfully. 

“I’ve also found the groups quite helpful, and you can be seen by a doctor quickly,” added Dimitri. “Compared to other hospitals, this one isn’t so bad.” 

“In that case, I will endure. I do have a reason to be here, even if I might not look it,” Constance said. “Though, I certainly would appreciate it if you cleaned your sheets off the floor, Marianne.” 

Marianne wasn’t hungry anymore.  _ It’s only one night _ , she told herself.  _ You’ll go home tomorrow _ . Still, something about Constance made her feel fragile. Thank the goddess it was only one night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really sorry to do this, but I think I'm going to go on a short hiatus. Things have gotten very intense with midterms and work, and I like to keep myself at least three chapters ahead of the one I'm posting, but lately I haven't been able to do that. I'm going to keep writing, and once I have a buffer back, I'll go back to posting, probably sometime in December. I'm definitely going to finish this fic, because it's the longest thing I've ever written and I care about Dimitri and Marianne, so don't worry about that. I just need a couple of weeks to get ahead of my own posting schedule.


	30. Miss

Marianne lingered in the community room after she, Constance, and Dimitri had finished their dinners. She didn’t want to go back to her room, not with Constance, so she stayed and drank tea and waited for visiting hours. Dimitri stayed too, and they sat together in silence for a while, sipping tea. 

Eventually he spoke. “I’m going to miss you when we’re discharged tomorrow.” 

Marianne nodded. “Me too. I’m looking forward to seeing my other friends but I can’t talk to them the way that I talk to you.” 

“It’s the same for me. I used to try so hard to hide how I was feeling around the friends I grew up with, and when I couldn’t hide it anymore, everything fell apart. But now, there’s something different about talking to someone who knows what it’s like to be truly miserable, to feel less than human,” Dimitri said. 

“It’s an awful feeling, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but--” Marianne struggled to find her train of thought. “If we had to feel that way anyway, I’m glad we can at least have someone who understands. I’m sorry, I don’t know if that made sense,” she added. 

“I think I know what you mean,” said Dimitri. “I’m not glad to have schizoaffective disorder or PTSD. I’m not glad to have run away from my home or to have alienated so many people or to have wound up in the hospital. And I’m not glad that you’ve had to suffer the way you have. But I’m glad to have had the chance to meet you, even if it’s only for a short time”

Marianne thought about the blank on her safety plan, for someone she could go to for help. She wanted to fill it was Dimitri’s name, to have some way to keep talking to him, to keep on being his friend.  _ But did he feel the same way? _ He might like having her around now, but that was no guarantee he wanted her to be a part of his life once he left the hospital. Missing someone wasn’t the same thing as actually wishing they were there. As long as there was any doubt that Dimitri wanted her to stay his friend even after they left the ward, Marianne wouldn’t say anything. She couldn’t bear to impose, to be a burden. “I feel the same way,” was all she said. She didn’t offer to give him her number or ask for his. 

Through the community room windows, Marianne could see the doors to the unit open and a small crowd of visitors enter. She recognized Hilda among them. The next day, Marianne herself would walk through those doors and leave the hospital. It would be the first time in six days that she went outside of the ward. It was exciting, but it made her a little bit nervous too. 

“Ah, I see Rodrigue,” said Dimitri, standing and pushing in his chair. “I ought to go.” 

Marianne stood. “I should go too.” The least she could do to reward Hilda’s faithfulness was respect her time. The two left the community room together and walked out into the atrium in front of the nurses’ station where the visitors were waiting. 

Hilda waved Marianne over to one of the clusters of chairs. She was, as usual, holding two cups from the hospital Starbucks. It was so kind of her, Marianne thought, to bring in her favorite tea, day after day. She’d have to do something nice for Hilda, something really special. 

“Claude can definitely drive us tomorrow,” Hilda said after Marianne had taken a seat opposite her. “So that’ll be nice. Good ol’ Claude. He also said we could get lunch together afterwards, because there’s apparently a Brigidian place near the hospital that’s supposed to be really good. You like Brigidian food, right?” 

“Um, yes, but well, the meeting can’t happen until 11:30,” said Marianne. 

“Wait really?” asked Hilda. 

Marianne nodded. “I asked and my psychiatrist said that she meets with patients in the mornings, so 11:30 is the earliest she can do. I’m sorry.”

“Ok, so I guess we can’t do a sit down restaurant if we want to make it to class on time, but maybe we can pick up sandwiches or eat on campus or something.” Hilda shrugged. “Either way it’ll be nice to get to hang out with you and Claude. I’m glad to be getting my Marianne back.”

“Oh, um, really?” Marianne asked in spite of herself.

“Yeah. It gets so lonely in the apartment without you. It’ll be nice having you around to talk to or even just hang out in the same room with you,” said Hilda. 

“Oh. Thank you.” Marianne had been under the impression that she was mostly just a nuisance to Hilda, that her presence in the apartment was more trouble than it was worth. It was nice to hear that that was untrue.

“I mean it. I like you. When,” Hilda paused. “When I saw what you’d left in your room and it really hit me that I might have lost you, I was completely beside myself. I cried for real. And you know, I don’t cry real tears, like ever.” 

Marianne felt a knot of guilt in her gut. “I’m so sorry, Hilda, I thought--”

“Yeah, you thought you didn’t matter to me or that I’d be better off without you. But that isn’t true, Marianne. You’re my best friend.” Hilda stared down at her lap. “I’m sorry, that got dark. I mean, you’re about to get out and we’re going to go have lunch together. I’m just really glad we can do this, instead of, you know. I’d miss you.” 

Marianne could sense no anger in her words, but still, she felt as if she were being reprimanded. She had thought that Hilda would be better off without her, that her dying would simply relieve Hilda of a burden. But if what Hilda was saying was true -- and Marianne could see no reason not to believe what she was saying -- then Marianne had almost done something horrible to Hilda. Hilda was so kind, so incredibly kind, and Marianne had almost killed her best friend. Even now, she was tempering her words, apologizing for saying what Marianne should have known all along. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I mean, you didn’t do anything,” said Hilda. “Like you’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

“I’m sorry,” said Marianne, uselessly. “You don’t have to hold back about it. I could have really hurt you.”

Hilda sighed. “Yeah, you could have. But even if you did, I wouldn’t have blamed you. You’re mentally ill, right? Like depressed, I mean.”

“Even so,” said Marianne. “You’re so kind, Hilda.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” Hilda said. She took another sip of coffee. “Really, Marianne, you have to stop thinking so little of yourself. Isn’t that the sort of thing you’re supposed to learn from this?” 

Marianne felt ashamed. What had she learned? She remembered being told to learn from her behavior whenever she did something bad as a child, that actions had consequences. But what was she supposed to learn from this? That she needed her friends? That she could ask for things? That she had things in common with someone like Dimitri? That she was afraid of the future? But none of that was what Hilda was looking for. Hilda wanted Marianne to have learned something that would stop her from ever wanting to kill herself again. And while it was true that Marianne didn’t want to kill herself right then, the wanting to die wasn’t gone. It was just pushed off towards the indeterminate future.

“I guess that’s really too much to ask right now,” said Hilda. “You can’t fix depression in a week. But are you sure you’re gonna be ok when you come home?”

“I’ll do my best,” said Marianne. “If you’re worried about me, I’m not going to, um, do anything again.”

“That’s a relief,” said Hilda. “Anyway, I kinda, got rid of the rope. I know it’s yours and you’re not supposed to throw away your roommate’s stuff, but I couldn’t help myself, you know?” 

“That’s ok, Hilda.” Marianne was relieved. “You did me a favor, really. I don’t want it.”

“Good,” said Hilda. “I’m glad I did the right thing. And you know, you can, like, talk to me. I want to be here for you. I’m your friend, remember?”

“Thank you,” said Marianne. “I want to be a good friend to you too, though. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Then stop thinking you are one. You’re more to me than that. I want to help you. And if you wind up helping me, that’s great, but you don’t have to try too hard or anything. It’s enough to just have you around. I like living with you. I like being your friend. You aren’t a burden.” Hilda’s voice was lower than usual, less wheedling, more insistent. 

“Thank you,” Maianne said again. It was all she could say. 

* * *

When the community meeting was over that night, Marianne hurried back to her room. Not because she wanted to be alone, because she didn’t, but instead because she had something important to take care of. First, she picked up all the sheets and blankets from the floor and set them on her bed. That would keep Constance happy, and she could stand it if it was only for one night. Then, she sat down at her desk and pulled out her safety plan. She stared at the line for “person I can go to for help.” Marianne took a deep breath and picked up the pen. Before tonight, she couldn’t have imagined it, opening up like that to Hilda, but Hilda had been so honest and earnest with her earlier that night. And so she wrote on the line, “Hilda Goneril.” 


	31. Oh.

The next morning, Marianne woke before Constance, so she left the lights off while getting dressed. Afterwards, she said her prayer silently to herself, in its shortened form. She didn’t want to die that day. She had to get ready to go home. Because she’d definitely want to put her hair back up the minute she had bobby pins again, Marianne arranged it into two braids in the bathroom, exactly the way she would if she were going to pin it around her head. It looked a little funny to just leave like that, but soon enough, her hair would be back the way she liked it. 

Marianne slipped out of her room and gently closed the door behind her. She took the long way around the ward to the nurses’ station. She was used to getting her vitals checked every morning now. This was the last time she would have to open her mouth for the thermometer or extend her arm for the blood pressure cuff, at least until her next physical. She sat through the vitals check in a strangely exhilarated state. Just this last check, just this last morning, and she would be home again. 

Breakfasts hadn’t arrived yet, so Marianne walked another lap around the ward. She saw a CNAs pushing carts and a few patients walking between their rooms and the community room. She felt stifled in the enclosed, windowless hallway. Marianne fervently wished her room were her own again, so she could at least go back in to look out her window at the hospital parking lot, but she didn’t want to wake Constance.  _ If only I could visit Dimitri’s room _ , she found herself thinking,  _ he has it all to himself, and his window has a view of the forest _ . Immediately, Marianne felt ashamed of herself.  _ That’s a violation of privacy. Besides, why would he even let you in? You’re just embarrassing yourself, getting attached to someone like this _ . It was another lap around the ward before Marianne realized that she hadn’t even thought of her curse as a reason she shouldn’t be thinking about getting closer to Dimitri. The thought of being cursed felt like just a thought, rather than a fact, and it wasn’t too hard to push away. Marianne had never even tried doing that before. 

Eventually, the meal carts arrived. This would be the last time Marianne ever ate from them. When she went to the community room to retrieve her breakfast, she found Dimitri sitting alone, drinking a cup of chamomile tea. He nodded at her as she entered. 

Marianne took a deep breath. It was her last chance. “May I sit with you?” she asked him. 

“Of course,” said Dimitri. 

They sat in silence for a moment. Marianne pulled the plastic cover off her cereal and thought about the tea she had at home. Dimitri sipped his chamomile tea, and a few other patients walked in with their trays.

“Are you going to any of the groups today?” Dimitri asked eventually.

Marianne turned to look at the board behind her where the groups for the day were listed. “Sleep hygiene” started at nine, followed by “Self Validation,” “Process group,” and “Rewiring your brain.” “The last two look interesting, but I’ll be gone by then,” she said. “I wonder if maybe I’d feel like talking in process group now.”

Dimitri nodded. “You weren’t here for my first process group, but I couldn’t make myself say anything. I had only just started my meds. By the second one, I was doing better, though. You were there for that one.” 

“I remember you said a lot of really amazing things,” said Marianne. 

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. “I felt much better by then.”

“Um, are you going to any groups today?” Marianne asked. 

“Rodrigue is coming to pick me up at five, so I’ll go to all of them, I think. I’ve been trying to keep myself busy by going to as many groups as I feel like I can. It’s important for me to stay active.”

“You’ll be doing a program when you leave, you said?” Marianne asked.

“Yes, intensive outpatient through one of the clinics in Fhirdiad,” said Dimitri. “So I’ll be going there every day, and I’ll be trying to find a job. You’re in college, right? Are you going back when you get out?”

Marianne nodded. “I’m going right back to school. I’ll be taking tomorrow off to get settled, but I’ll go to my Friday classes.”

“So you’re getting right back into the flow of it,” said Dimitri. “Are you going to be seeing a therapist or anything?”

“Yes, I’ll be in a DBT group,” Marianne said. It started on Thursday, tomorrow, but that still felt like a long way off. 

“I hope that goes well.” Dimitri finished his tea. “Excuse me, I should probably get my breakfast. I’ll be right back.” He pushed in his chair as he left.

Marianne found herself watching him as he went, and felt ashamed of herself for it. It was her last morning with him, and she wanted to take in as much of Dimitri as she could during the time they had left. She wanted to memorize him, the way he walked, his silhouette, the way he sounded, his shaggy blond hair and single blue eye, his gentle smile.  _ What are you doing? You don’t deserve him, so stop acting like you like him! _

Oh. That was it.  _ Oh Goddess, no. _ The idea of having a crush on someone she met in a psych ward was absolutely humiliating. What on earth would Hilda say if she knew? But at the same time, she had never met someone quite like Dimitri, someone who was kind and wise, someone who seemed truly interested in what she had to say, someone who truly understood her and didn’t turn away in disgust but stayed with her and listened. She wanted to stay with him, even though she knew that she didn’t deserve him. Even though she didn’t want either of them to stay here. Could someone like her really be allowed to have feelings for someone? She might be boring and useless and weak, but Dimitri... 

“Oh, Marianne, are you alright? You’re looking awfully flushed.” Dimitri had returned to the table with a plate of french toast. 

“Oh, I’m fine. Sorry.” Marianne looked up and tried to will the heat to drain from her face. 

“There’s no need to be sorry.” Dimitri paused to sit himself down into his chair again. 

“Thank you.”  _ Goddess, please deliver me from whatever feelings I have for him _ .

“Of course. What time did you say you were leaving?” Dimitri asked. 

“My roommate is coming for my meeting at 11:30. I’ll probably have to miss all the groups except for the first one. If my psychiatrist doesn’t want to talk to me before then, I’ll go to that.”

“Are you nervous about your meeting?” Dimitri asked.

“Oh, um.” Marianne hadn’t given it much thought. She had assumed that Dr. Navarro and Hilda would do most of the talking and she could just sit back and wait for it to be over. “Do you think I should be? Is there anything I need to do?”

“I was told that I just needed to bring the safety plan,” said Dimitri. “But I’m still a bit apprehensive. I know that I shouldn’t be, but I keep thinking about how important it is that I do right by Rodrigue. He’s doing me such a great service by agreeing to let me live with him, especially after what happened with Gilbert. I hope he knows what he’s getting into, and I hope I can hold up my end of things. Sorry, I ended up talking about myself.”

Marianne nodded. “It’s alright. I think I know what you mean. Still, I don’t think it’s going to go terribly for you and Rodrigue. He’s your friend’s father. He’s known you for years, you’ve said.”

“That is true. Still, I’ve fallen so far. I used to be someone people said had a bright future. I used to do well in school, do sports and community service, and I had lots of friends. I used to be able to keep it all inside. That’s the Dimitri that Rodrigue knows. I spent the past five years living like I was barely human. I feel like a monster, like I’m not fit to be around other people.” Dimitri shook his head. “I’m sorry, Marianne.”

“No,” said Marianne. “I didn’t go through what you went through, but I feel the same way, like I’ll ruin everything for other people or bring them misfortune. But that’s not true. You’ve brought me happiness. You’ve made me feel like there’s hope for me. And I have hope for you too. You still have a bright future. You have a plan for after you leave. You’re going to keep taking care of yourself, and go to an outpatient program, and look for a job, right?”

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Dimitri sounded like he wanted to argue with her, but he said nothing else.

“Do you mind if I keep going?” Marianne asked. She had something else to say, but it was risky.  _ Goddess, give me guidance.  _

“Not at all,” said Dimitri. “Thank you.”

“Oh, um.” Marianne took a deep breath and went for it. “I’ve only known you for six days, but you said you were here for just a little more than two weeks. That means that it was less than three weeks ago when you were threatening to kill your stepsister. And since then, you’ve come so far. Imagine how much more you can grow in the weeks and months ahead. You’re getting better, Dimitri. And you never were a monster.”

“Marianne…” Dimitri looked up to meet her eyes, and Marianne felt her heart jump. 

“I’m sorry. But I meant every word of it.” 

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong,” Dimitri said. “You’re wonderful.”

Marianne could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again. No, she would have to fight it. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. 

Dimitri shook his head. “Really, I ought to thank you. I shouldn’t have asked so much of you, but you’ve put my mind at ease.”

“I’m glad,” said Marianne. She took her final spoonful of cereal. Eating with real silverware. That was another thing she would be able to do again soon. 

“You’re right,” Dimitri said softly. “We are going to keep on getting better. I will and so will you.” 


	32. For tomorrow

After taking her medication, Marianne wanted to be alone for a little while, to sort through her feelings, but she knew that if she went back to her room, Constance would be there. So after she and Dimitri parted ways, Marianne again started walking circles around the ward. She had to think this through logically, and to do that, she had to be alone, or at least away from Dimitri.

Her feelings for Dimitri didn’t have to change anything radically. She wouldn’t want to do anything as drastic as ask him out, especially when they were both hospitalized. Marianne had had crushes on people before, on a handful of men and women from her classes at University, but she’d never acted on any of them. She’d never been taken on a date before, unless you counted the time she was asked out as a dare back in junior high and didn’t know how to say no. She was twenty-three years old and had never been kissed. She’d barely even had friends, much less a boyfriend or girlfriend. Even if there was any chance Dimitri reciprocated her feelings, she’d have no idea what to do. 

Not only was Marianne hopelessly inexperienced in relationships, but her future was uncertain. Yes, there was some drive in her to at the very least see what it held for her, but everything beyond the next week was still unclear. There was no guarantee her depression with psychosis wouldn’t come back, no guarantee that she wouldn’t retreat again into a room she never cleaned and a mind that never let her free. She had some idea now of how to keep that hungry darkness at bay, but what if it didn’t work? She couldn’t risk dragging Dimitri down with her, especially when he was just starting to rebuild his life. Their lives were still too fragile to entangle with each other. 

_ Goddess, why didn’t we meet at a different time? When we’re older, stronger, happier? _ She didn’t want to let herself consider the other option. It was no use thinking about whether or not she could have helped Dimitri if they had met earlier. Feeling guilty about something like that was pointless. Still, thinking about future, happier versions of themselves made Marianne feel warm inside. The idea that they were out there, that someday she and Dimitri would live lives that brought them joy and contentment, even if they were apart, felt revolutionary. Even a few days earlier, she wouldn’t have considered that possible.

She kept walking. There was also the consideration that she only liked Dimitri because he was kind to her in a dark time. Being in the psych ward was humiliating and boring, but meeting Dimitri had been something good to come from that experience, so Marianne had caught feelings. They had found comfort in each other during a time when both of them were suffering; what if that was the sole basis for their connection? She had only known him for less than a week, and though she felt a strong bond with him now, there was every possibility that with time and distance, those feelings would fade. 

The only reasonable course of action for Marianne was to do nothing and say nothing. Today would be the last time she saw Dimitri. If she were braver, maybe she would give him her number or ask him to add her on Facebook, but she wasn’t brave enough to broach the subject. It was enough to know that people like Dimitri existed out there, people who were kind and sincere and who understood her. It was enough to have known him for just a little while. And someday, the Goddess being gracious, their paths might cross again, under better circumstances.

Marianne was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Dr. Navarro was there until she had already passed her. “Marianne, do you have a minute?” Dr. Navarro asked, as Marianne turned. 

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Marianne answered. 

“We can talk here today,” said Dr. Navarro, gesturing towards the armchairs by the bookshelves at the back of the unit. “I understand that you have a roommate now.”

Marianne nodded and took a seat. She looked at her feet. She felt embarrassed to have been caught in the middle of her musings, and foolishly feared that Dr. Navarro might be able to tell what she had been thinking about. 

Dr. Navarro took the other chair. “So you’re going home today. How are you feeling?”

Marianne thought. She had been so caught up on her feelings for Dimitri that she had to put in effort to recall the way she’d felt that morning upon waking. “I feel excited, but also nervous. I feel ready to go home, but I don’t know what comes next.”

“Well you have DBT group tomorrow. You’ll probably be getting a call from Dr. Eisner tonight confirming that you’re attending and asking you a few questions. We’ve already sent over your patient information. I should also probably let you know that if you don’t answer or attend the group tomorrow, we will have to call in a wellness check.”

“A wellness check,” Marianne repeated. That meant police showing up at her apartment. How humiliating. 

“The days immediately after leaving an inpatient setting are always a high risk time, so it’s a good thing that you’ll be starting your group right away,” said Dr. Navarro. 

Something about that knowledge made Marianne feel unsettled. If they knew it was risky to send people home after they’ve been hospitalized, then shouldn’t there be some other system? It got at something that had been bothering Marianne about her entire stay in the hospital, the nagging sense that there had to be some better way to help suicidal or delusional people. She couldn’t for the life of her guess what that might be.  _ Goddess, grant me insight _ . 

“Do you have any experience with Dialectical Behavioral Therapy?” Dr. Navarro asked.

Marianne shook her head. “No, I’ve never had any therapy before.”

“Well, I’m sure Dr. Eisner will go over what to expect when they call. I just want to make sure that you know that it includes homework for you to do in between the sessions and exercises for you to practice. If you’re having trouble keeping up with those, you and Dr. Eisner can work something out, but you’ll be expected to do your best to put in the work for your own recovery.”

“I’m alright with homework,” said Marianne. She had always been good at keeping up her studies. Not having many friends made that easy. Marianne couldn’t imagine, however, what kind of homework a therapist would assign. 

“That’s good,” said Dr. Eisner. “We’ll also be sending medications home with you, and Dr. Casagranda is probably going to call you soon to set up a follow-up appointment. Now, is there anything you’d like to make sure we discuss during your meeting today? Did you finish your safety plan sheet?”

“Yes, I did,” said Marianne. “And I don’t know if there’s anything I need to talk about. I just don’t know what I would say.”

Dr. Navarro smiled. “Well, the person coming to pick you up is your roommate, right? Think of some ways that she can support you, but that are things that it’s reasonable to ask of another person. And that’s great about you finishing your safety plan. Drop it off at the nurses’ station so that we can make copies, and we’ll go over it during the meeting. Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

Marianne got the sense that Dr. Navarro wanted to move on, that she had other patients to see before meeting with Marianne and Hilda. Marianne didn’t blame her. Dr. Navarro had said that she would have to squeeze Marianne’s discharge meeting in with all her morning sessions with patients.  _ Besides, you’re boring to talk to _ . “No, sorry, I don’t.”

“That’s alright. I’ll come find you before 11:30, so we can meet with your roommate. Make sure to get your safety plan turned in to the nurses’ desk by then.” With that, Dr. Navarro stood, and Marianne joined her. 

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll see you then.” Marianne then walked back towards her room to get the safety plan before she forgot. 

When she walked into room 144, Constance was nowhere to be seen. Marianne wondered briefly where she had gone, then strode over to the desk to grab the sheet. She pushed open the door to walk back out to the nurses’ station and turned to walk down the hall, but just then she stopped, frozen in her tracks. Standing across the hallway, next to the medication room door was Dimitri. His face was blank, but when he saw her, he met her eyes, and Marianne knew that he had come to talk to her. 

“Marianne, can we walk for a little?” Dimitri asked. 

“Um, yes, we can,” Marianne said. In her head, she ran through everything she had done that morning, hoping that nothing had betrayed the way she felt.  _ Goddess, please let me have not embarrassed myself _ . 

“Thank you,” Dimitri said. The two of them walked down past the nurses’ station, and Marianne stopped them. 

“I have to turn something in,” she said. “I’m sorry.” 

“You’re fine,” said Dimitri, and Marianne walked over to the desk. She handed in her safety plan to the CNA behind the desk, and walked back to join Dimitri. 

“Is everything alright?” she asked when she returned. 

“Oh, yes, things are fine,” said Dimitri. “There’s just something I’ve been thinking about since our conversation at breakfast.” 

Marianne met his eyes and nodded for him to continue. They turned around the corner to the back of the ward, near the bookshelves.

Dimitri took a deep breath. She could tell he had thought hard about what he was about to say. “You said I have a bright future. The same is true of you. I don’t know your exact age, but you’re finishing college this year. I’m twenty-three; we’re both young. We both might still have long lives ahead of us. Everything you’ve said to me to encourage me, about how there’s hope for the future, it’s all true for you too. And,” Dimitri paused. “I want to see you happy someday. We don’t have to talk every day or anything, but I’d like to know what kind of life you end up leading, where you go from here. But I threw away my phone a few years ago, and I haven’t gotten a new one yet. Is it alright if I give you my email, and my full name so you can add me on Facebook? It’s fine if you say no, of course. I’d understand not wanting to be reminded of a time like this.” 

Marianne felt light as a balloon. She hadn’t realized until now how badly she’d wanted this, how much the desire to continue being friends with Dimitri had been crushing down on her heart. She couldn’t have asked him, couldn’t have risked burdening him, but if he wanted to stay in touch with her… 

“Yes, of course. I’ll give you my email too. Wait just a moment. I’ll be right back.” Marianne hurried down the hall towards room 144, leaving Dimitri standing by the cluster of chairs. Once inside the room, she tore a sheet out of her hospital issued notebook, and scribbled down her email address, along with her own full name, Marianne von Edmund. After a moment’s thought, she included her phone number too, for when he got a new phone. 

Marianne returned to where Dimitri was waiting and handed him the paper. “Here you go,” she said. 

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. He tore off a part of the sheet from the bottom, grabbed a pen off one of the shelves, and started writing on the bottom. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. 

Marianne glanced down at the slip of paper. Written in large, angular letters was the name “Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd,” and beneath that, the email address dimablaiddyd62. 

“The spelling’s a little unusual, so I figured I’d write it down for you. If you want, you can find me on Facebook or you can email me,” said Dimitri. “Only if it’s convenient for you, of course.”

“I’ll definitely write to you,” said Marianne. “Maybe not right away, but I’ll write to you, I promise.” She meant it. She would not let this slip into the pile of undone things and unkept promises. She really would write to Dimitri. 

“Thank you,” said Dimitri. “I’m very grateful to you.”

_ I’m grateful too _ , thought Marianne as she tucked the note into her pocket.  _ Grateful to the Goddess, and grateful to you _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I actually finished the fic proper this morning but I'll keep to my once a week uploading schedule for these last few chapters (also there might be an epilogue)


	33. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I forgot to upload this yesterday! I was busy working on grad school apps and completely forgot.

Marianne attended the group on sleep hygiene, because there was nothing better for her to do. She could have spent the time in her room, but that would have meant the possibility of Constance coming back and intruding, and she would have had nothing to do. She was finished with all of the schoolwork she’d brought with her by now. Nobody forced her to go because they didn’t have to; there was simply no alternative.

Marianne usually had little trouble getting to sleep, at least at home, when she wasn’t taking a medication that kept her awake. The problem was staying asleep. The therapist leading the group had a great deal of advice on how to get to sleep: keep a consistent bedtime, avoid screens, eat something light but containing carbs, get exercise during the day, start winding down activities for about an hour before going to bed. Marianne already did most of that without a problem, but she took notes anyway, waiting for a piece of information that applied to her. 

After the group ended, Marianne went to make herself a cup of tea. Dimitri joined her at the back table. “Are you packed to go?” he asked her.

Marianne shook her head. “I don’t know where to start. I didn’t bring a suitcase when I first came in, and my roommate brought me everything I have.”

“I wonder what your roommate used to transport everything,” said Dimitri. “If it was a plastic bag, they’d have confiscated it, along with anything like dental floss or shoelaces. But maybe if she brought your things in a suitcase, they still have it.”

“I’ll go ask,” said Marianne. "In case I don't see you again, goodbye."

"Goodbye," said Dimitri. "Good luck."

Her tea was finished steeping but was still too hot to drink, so she took it with her. 

Marianne had to stand for a moment by the station before Irene noticed her. “Excuse me,” she said, “but I have a request.” She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She could do this, the Goddess was here with her. “I’m being discharged today, so I need something to carry my things in.” 

“Of course, we can give you some paper bags,” said Irene. “And I remember, we have some things we were holding onto for you. Have you had your discharge meeting yet?”

“No,” said Marianne. “It’s at 11:30.”

“Alright, well come back here around eleven. I’ll give you back your phone so you can make your plans with whoever’s coming to pick you up. You can get the rest of your stuff after your meeting.”

“Thank you.”  _ And thank you Goddess for guiding me _ , Marianne thought. A week ago, such a conversation would have been beyond her. She would have been too certain she was a bother to ask for anything, but now, she felt not quite pride, but a palpable absence of shame.

Marianne took the paper bags back to her room. Constance was there, reading at her desk out of an enormous book with multiple stickies poking out of it. She looked up when Marianne entered. 

“Hello,” said Marianne. She set tea down on her desk, then carried her bags over to the shelves and started loading clothing into them. 

“You’re leaving already?” said Constance. “Good for you.”

“Yes,” Marianne answered. She wanted to apologize, but stopped herself. “I’ll be leaving around noon.”

“Good luck out there. It’s a shame we never really got to know each other.” Constance returned to her book.

Marianne didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing. Instead she resumed her packing. It was awkward laying the clothes and books in the paper bags, and eventually Marianne gave up on trying to do it neatly, wrinkles be damned. By the time she was finished, it was 10:45. There was another group starting in the community room, but her meeting would start before it was over, so she couldn’t go.

Instead, Marianne walked laps around the ward. She nodded briefly at Dimitri as he walked into the group, and he smiled at her, and then he continued to one of the tables and Marianne walked on down the hall. For the past six days, she had been confined to a space smaller than the lecture halls at Leicester State. She knew every inch of the ward, which doors led to bedrooms, which doors led to offices or storage closets. She knew the spines of the books on the shelf at the back of the ward, the one flickering light, the medication room, the patterns in the linoleum. This tiny, strictly regulated space had been her entire world for nearly a week, and today she was leaving it. Marianne couldn’t wait.  _ Goddess, thank you. Goddess, protect me _ . 

Eventually, the clock over the nurses’ station read eleven, and Marianne stopped to pick up her phone. “My discharge meeting’s in half an hour,” she explained, and the CNA behind the desk dug through a filing cabinet and pulled out Marianne’s phone. 

The first thing Marianne noticed when she turned it on was a text from Hilda. “Hey you probably can’t see this but I’m supposed to be there at 11:30 right?” The second thing was thirty-two missed calls. Marianne opened her recent calls and saw that most of them were from her adoptive father. He had also left her six voicemails. She gritted her teeth and replied to Hilda’s text, “Yes, thank you so much.”

A message bubble with three dots inside, indicating that Hilda was typing popped up almost immediately. “Of course we’re leaving like now.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon,” Marianne typed, and she slipped the phone into her skirt pocket. How nice it was to feel its familiar weight under the fabric. 

Marianne kept walking in laps around the ward, trying not to be nervous about meeting with Hilda or having lunch with her and Claude. If the meeting was about discussing a plan for how Hilda could help her, then wasn’t the entire point of the meeting for Marianne to explain what kind of a burden she’d be on Hilda? And it had been so long since she’d seen Claude. What if his opinion of her had changed since finding out she’d been hospitalized? What if she became a burden on him too? And now that the meeting was almost upon her, she was afraid she’d mess something up or fail to mention something important. Marianne hadn’t been a pacer before, preferring to find someplace quiet and pray when she was worried, but being cooped up for so long and the new medication made her feel that she had to move or else she would start to sink. 

“Marianne, there you are.” It was Dr. Navarro. “Is your roommate still coming today?” 

“Yes,” said Marianne. The idea that Hilda and Claude might not even come suddenly occurred to her.  _ Goddess protect me, a new thing to worry about _ . No, this time Marianne had evidence on her side. “She texted me about fifteen minutes ago.” 

“That’s good.” Dr Navarro had stopped and Marianne stopped too. “We’ll be meeting her by the main doors in front of the nurses’ station and then have our meeting in my office across from the community room. Are you already packed?” 

Marianne nodded. 

“You can bring your things here while you wait. Also, remember to visit the medication room. They should have a thirty day supply of medication ready for you to take home.” 

Marianne had completely forgotten about that. “Thank you.” 

“Well, if you want you have time to do that now, or you can get everything after your meeting.” 

“I’ll go now, sorry,” said Marianne, turning. 

“I’ll meet you back here in five,” Dr. Navarro replied. 

Marianne nodded, then walked down the hall. She went to room 144 before the medication room, to pick up her bags. Constance was no longer there. Marianne then carried her bags with her as she went to go pick up her medications. 

“You’re being discharged today, right?” the nurse in the medication room said when she walked in. 

“Yes,” said Marianne. “I’m here to pick up my meds to take home with me.”

“Let me check your chart and see what I can do for you.” The nurse turned to his computer and typed something in. “Looks like the pharmacy got a bit backed up. Come back in about half an hour and we should have it ready for you.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll come back.” Marianne left the medication room, and walked back out to the nurses’ station. Dr. Navarro was still there, and she nodded to Marianne as she seated herself in one of the armchairs. The clock read 11:28. Marianne set her bags down next to the chair and reached into her pocket for her phone to find a text from Hilda dated to just a few minutes earlier. 

It was a selfie of her and Claude at the Starbucks. “Here,” said the accompanying text. Marianne relaxed slightly, knowing that Hilda would definitely be on time then. 

No sooner had Marianne put away her phone than the ward’s main doors opened and in walked Hilda, accompanied by a CNA. Marianne felt a warmth inside of her at the sight.

“Marianne!” called out Hilda, as she strode over to where she was sitting. 

“Hello, Hilda.” Marianne rose to greet her. It occurred to her that this was the last time she’d see Hilda come in through those doors, Goddess willing. 

“Hello Hilda, are you here to take Marianne home?” Dr. Navarro asked.

“Yes,” answered Hilda. “That’s not it, is it? Like, I can’t just leave now.”

Dr. Navarro smiled. “Well, we should probably go over a few things first. Let’s go talk in my office.” She stood and walked over to a door with a frosted glass window. Marianne and Hilda looked at each other, then followed her inside. 

Once they were in the office, Dr. Navarro motioned for them to sit down and handed each of them a copy of Marianne’s safety plan. Marianne felt heat rise to her face when she realized that Hilda would be seeing what she had written, what she had said about Hilda being her person who could help her. She glanced up at Hilda to try to gauge her reaction, but Hilda seemed undisturbed. 

Dr. Navarro took the lead. “What we have here is a safety plan for Marianne, for things she can do to keep herself safe and healthy. I’ll give you a moment to read over it, and then you can ask us any questions you would like.”

Hilda read the front of the paper, then turned it over to read the back. Marianne was growing more and more uncomfortable. Finally, Hilda spoke. “So when we get home, you’re going to give me your razors? Do you mean all of them or are you going to keep any to shave with?”

Marianne thought. She had once pulled blades out of a shaving razor with pliers, and knew that there was a risk she might do that again, if she got desperate. “I don’t think I need to shave. I always wear tights and long sleeves, so it shouldn’t really matter.” 

“Ok, that makes sense. I have class at two; would you mind waiting to go home until like, I can go with you to take your stuff? You can wait on campus, right?” Hilda asked. 

“Yes, I can do that,” said Marianne. “You don’t have to always supervise me, though. I wouldn’t be safe to go home if I needed you to watch me all the time.”

“I guess you’re right,” said Hilda. “Still, I’d feel better if just for today, you could wait for me. I’m a little worried I guess.”

“Marianne will be starting a weekly therapy program tomorrow,” Dr. Navarro interjected. 

“Oh, that’s good,” said Hilda. “I was wondering if you were getting anything like that.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” said Marianne. 

“I’m glad to hear that. Is there anything else you would like to clarify, Hilda?” Dr. Navarro asked. 

“Nope, I don’t think so,” said Hilda. 

“And is there anything you would like to say, Marianne?”

Marianne took a deep breath. “Thank you, Hilda. Thank you for being such a good friend.” 


	34. Claude

They found Claude just outside the cafe. 

“Hey Hilda! How’s it going, Marianne? You two ready to head out?” Claude held out a hand. “You need any help with those bags?”

“Oh, thank you, but I’m ok,” said Marianne. “Sorry.”

“You sure? I notice Hilda isn’t carrying anything but her purse. Maybe she could give you a hand.” Claude flashed a grin at Hilda, who feigned a look of outrage. 

“Claude, how could you?” Hilda gasped. She laughed, but did not offer to carry Marianne’s bags. 

“I’m just saying!” Claude grinned. “Here, let me take just one.”

“Thank you very much,” Marianne said, handing him the lighter of the two bags. The three of them made their way towards the hospital’s double doors. Doctors, nurses, and visitors walked past them in every direction. Receptionists directed the flow of people from behind heavy wooden desks, and footsteps clicked on linoleum. 

“The meeting was way shorter than I thought it would be. Why don’t we try Brigid Winds--that’s the place Claude was thinking we could go earlier, and just try to be quick?” Hilda said as they approached the double doors. “It’s between here and campus, right?” 

“Closer to here than Leicester, but I suppose it’s technically on the way.” The automatic doors parted to let them through. The sky was overcast and the parking lot smelled strongly of wet asphalt. Claude led them between the rows of cars to his prius and pulled out his keys. He unlocked the doors, and Hilda slid into the front passenger seat before Marianne could ask her which seat she wanted. 

“So can we eat there?” Hilda asked. 

“I’m alright with that if you are,” Marianne said. “Sorry.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Claude said. “I promise. And that sounds good to me, as long as there isn’t a line out the door or anything.”

“Thank you.” Marianne fastened her seatbelt, and Claude pulled out of the parking lot as Hilda plugged in her phone and scrolled through her music. For just a moment, Marianne was certain that everything was going to be ok. 

* * *

There was no line out the door at Brigid Winds--no line at all in fact. Claude, Hilda, and Marianne found a table immediately and the waiter brought over water and menus for them within moments of their sitting down. 

“I know what I’m getting,” Claude said almost immediately. “How about you?”

“Don’t be so pushy! Give me some time to decide!” Hilda furrowed her brow and looked over the menu. 

“I think I would like the seafood soup,” Marianne said. “Um, if I ordered a pot of tea, would anyone share it with me?”

“I would!” said Hilda and Claude together. Claude laughed. 

“By the way Claude, what was the article we were supposed to read for today?” Hilda asked. 

“You didn’t do the reading? Seriously?” Claude shook his head. 

“I can do it on my phone now!” Hilda defended herself. 

“And ignore your beautiful friends,” said Claude, sighing. “It’s by Aumont et al, on the effects of Fódlan-imported agricultural methods in Sreng. Number 83 on the syllabus.” Hilda pulled out her phone.

“That sounds interesting,” said Marianne. “Did you read it, Claude?”

Claude nodded. “Yeah, it is interesting, but a pretty dismal read. Basically, the climate in Sreng is cold and dry, right? Not a lot of water for irrigation, so most of Sreng’s agriculture was historically animal based. However, since more Fódlaners started buying up land in Sreng and dictating how the Srengi farmed it, these absentee landlords would force Sreng farmers to try growing wheat and potatoes. But of course, these crops did poorly, and now land that was traditionally used for raising horses and yaks was repurposed, so a lot of Srengi tenant farmers lost everything, and more people moved to the coastal cities and even turned to piracy. Then in the last five years, the Fódlaner landlords have been selling the Srengi land to mining companies, also based in Fódlan. It’s classic economic imperialism; even though Sreng isn’t technically a colony, it’s being treated like one.” 

“That’s horrible,” said Marianne. “Was peace between Faerghus and Sreng even worth it? I mean, the old wars sound awful in their own way, but so does this.”

“There can’t be any real peace as long as powerful nations subjugate the weak,” said Claude. “Fódlan does it, Almyra does it, Dagda does it…” 

“Well now I don’t have to do the reading!” Hilda butted in. “Thanks for explaining it! You’re a real one, Claude. Now we can talk about other things!”

“Ow Hilda! Why’d you kick me?” Claude exclaimed. “Oh. Sorry Marianne. Didn’t mean to bring up something so heavy when we’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“It’s alright,” said Marianne. “I don’t mind at all. Thank you for explaining your reading.” It felt nice to hear Claude talk, even about something upsetting. It reminded her of the way things had been freshman year.

A waiter in a white shirt and green apron came over to take their orders. Marianne got the soup and a pot of tea for the table. Claude listed off three appetizers for them all to share in addition to his meal, and Hilda had somehow still not decided by the time the waiter got around to her but eventually settled on a stirfry with sweet peppers. 

After the waiter left, Hilda turned to Marianne and asked “So, when are you going back to classes?”

“I don’t know, really,” Marianne said. “The people at the student services office said that I can return whenever I feel well enough, as long as I come back within two weeks.”

“Why the two week limit?” Claude asked.

“After two weeks, you have to apply for a leave of absence,” said Marianne. That was what she had been told over the phone the day after she arrived at Garreg Mach Medical Center. At the time, she had been afraid, hadn’t known how long she might have ended up staying in the hospital. “Fortunately, I think the latest I’ll be starting again is Monday, but I think I’ll go to my Friday classes at least.”

“Taking tomorrow off sounds like a good idea,” said Hilda. “I wish I could do that.”

Claude rolled his eyes. “You skip lectures all the time anyway,” he said.

“I do not!” Hilda wasn’t really offended, Marianne could tell. They all knew Claude was right. 

“Then just skip tomorrow. Stay home with Marianne and hang out. Do you have a wii at your place?” Claude asked.

Marianne jumped in. “You don’t have to, Hilda.”

“I want to but I can’t afford to miss any more class.” Hilda sighed dramatically “And no we do not have a wii.” 

“And there you have it,” said Claude.

Just then, the waiter returned, bearing trays of food. Hilda and Claude both wanted to take pictures of their meals, and that turned into taking pictures of the three of them, and that turned into sending those pictures to Lorenz, to “show him what he’s missing by taking that poetry class.” 

That warm thing that had been inside of Marianne since the moment Hilda walked through the doors of the ward to see her that morning rose up and began to overflow. Without willing it, without pushing or even trying, it showed up in the pictures they took. Marianne was smiling.

* * *

In the end, they lost track of time and had to run across campus to make it to Claude and Hilda’s class. They arrived at the sociology building panting and out of breath, Marianne and Claude each holding a paper bag to their chest, Hilda’s purse flapping rhythmically against her side. 

“Shit, it already started,” gasped Claude, checking his phone once they got inside. “Two minutes late, so we should still probably go. Stairs or elevator?”

“Elevator for sure,” Hilda answered. She had somehow hardly broken a sweat. “Where do you want to meet me after class, Marianne?”

“Here is fine,” Marianne said, taking her bag back from Claude.

Hilda gave Marianne a look. “Are you sure? Waiting here is going to be super boring.”

“Oh, sorry. I meant I’d go to the cafe by the fine arts building and come back in about two hours. I have some calls I have to make too.” Marianne thought of the thirty-two missed calls from her adoptive father. 

“Ok. Have fun,” said Hilda. She pressed the elevator button.

“Thanks for hanging out today,” said Claude. “It was nice seeing you.”

“It was nice seeing you too,” said Marianne. That wasn’t enough.  _ Goddess, give me words _ . “It was the most fun I’ve had in a while.” There, that was better. Scary, but better. 

“Then we’ll have to do it again. And next time, we should invite Lorenz. See you later.”

The elevator chimed and the doors opened. Claude and Hilda stepped inside, and Marianne was alone in the sociology building lobby. She had said she was going to the cafe, but first she closed her eyes for just a moment, savoring her new freedom. For the first time in almost a week, she could go anywhere she wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP to the pot of rice i burnt while writing this chapter
> 
> this is the second to last chapter of Voyagers. I just want to say thank you to anyone who's stuck with it this far.


	35. Voyagers

The next day, Thursday, marked one week since Marianne had intended to die. One week since she had gone into the hospital. Of course, weeks were arbitrary things, a collection of seven days as opposed to six, or eight. Still, the strangeness of having outlived her own plan by a week hung about Marianne as she rode the train back to Garreg Mach Medical Center that afternoon for her first session of Dialectical Behavior Therapy. 

When Marianne got off the train in front of the medical center’s campus, she felt a knot in her stomach. She had done the exact same thing a week ago, and it had ended with her freedom being taken away. It had ended with her life being disrupted, not ended, but still, disrupted, broken apart into a before and after. However much she had grown from the experience, it was still a week of boredom and tension and being misunderstood and cajoled and treated like a disobedient child.  _ Goddess, there must be another way _ . 

Not only that, but Marianne was nervous. Nervous that just like the last time she’d gone to a group, she would be asked to leave once she got there. What if she was too severely ill to be part of this group? What if everyone else there was worse off than her and thought she had things too easy? What if somehow everyone there was cooler than her by far and she was the odd one out? 

But Marianne walked into the waiting room anyway. She chose a seat near the water cooler and opened her book and tried not to worry that the other people in the waiting room were all judging her. She didn’t think about her curse at all. It simply didn’t occur to her.

Finally, the clock on the wall reached 3:55, and the door opened. A few of the other people in the waiting room got up and walked in and sat around a table. Marianne joined them, glancing around to decide which seat to take. At the head of the table sat someone wearing a nametag, whom Marianne guessed must be Dr. Eisner. She was too nervous to sit next to them. Eventually, a woman with wavy brown hair in a red dress made eye contact with her, and the two exchanged a smile. Marianne sat down between her and a tall red-haired man.

“Shall we begin?” Dr. Eisner said eventually, once everyone had taken their seats. Marianne took a look around the room. Everyone there seemed to be about the same age as her. There were two men and three other women, making a total of six people. They all had spiral bound workbooks sitting in front of them on the table. Marianne felt self conscious. “We have a new group member joining us today, so when you check in, you can all start with your name and pronouns.” Dr. Eisner stood and began to write on the whiteboard behind them. “Then you can say how you’re feeling today on a scale of one to ten, with one being the worst day you’ve ever had and ten being the best day ever.” On the whiteboard, they had written “Name, pronouns (if you want), feelings 1-10.” “Who wants to go first?”

“I can start,” said a fair-haired man with glasses. “I’m Ignatz, I use he/him pronouns, and I think that today I’m at about a six.”

The person next to him went next. “My name is Mercedes or Mercie. I use she/her and they/them, and today I’m feeling five.”

After Mercedes was the woman next to Marianne. Marianne steeled herself for her coming turn and almost missed the introduction. “I’m Dorothea. I use she/her/hers and today has been about a three.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Mercedes. 

Marianne took a deep breath. “Hello everyone. My name is Marianne, and I use she/her. I’m feeling at about…” Marianne paused to think. She was awfully nervous, but hopeful too. It was hard to reduce such complicated things to a number from one to ten. It reminded her of the scales she had to fill out during her intake at the hospital and when she had talked to Dr. Casagranda. “I think I’m at a five. Sorry.”

“You did well,” said Dr. Eisner. “Thank you for coming today, Marianne.”

Marianne remembered that if she hadn’t come, the police would have been called to her apartment on a wellness check.  _ Being here isn’t bad, but also it isn’t like I had a choice _ . 

“I’ll go next,” said the man on Marianne’s other side. “My name is Sylvain. He/him/his please, and I’m having a pretty good day, so I’ll say a seven. Nice to meet you, Marianne.”

“Thank you,” Marianne replied. 

There was one person left, a short woman with purple hair in an enormous hoodie. “Um. I’m Bernadetta. She/her and uh, four?” She looked at Dr. Eisner as if to ask if she did something wrong. 

“Thank you all,” said Dr. Eisner. They skipped over their introduction, and instead reached into a bag beside their chair. “This workbook is for you, Marianne.” They passed Marianne a spiral-bound book like the ones the rest of the group members had in front of them. “We’ll be doing mindfulness next, but I’d like you to have this so you can follow along while we go over last week’s at-home practice. I don’t expect you to have done it already, of course.”

Marianne took the book. “Thank you.”

“Now, I want everyone to get into a comfortable position. You may close your eyes or soften your gaze on one point,” Dr. Eisner began, and Marianne was glad to have the chance to practice again. She was glad she had learned about mindfulness, and glad to have the reminder to keep practicing it. Marianne closed her eyes and turned her attention to her breath.  _ In two three four and out two three four... _

* * *

The rest of the group went smoothly. Everyone except Sylvain had done the at-home practice of filling out a chart listing pros and cons of acting on their choice of emotional urge and healthy coping strategy. Marianne followed along as they discussed the charts and what they had done, and she made a mental note to fill out her own when she got home. They then looked over a flowchart on the following page, and talked about strategies for self soothing. Marianne didn’t say anything. She just listened, read what the book said, and thought about how she would keep on with the book at home. 

When the group ended, the participants began to gather their stuff to go. Bernadetta and Dorothea talked to each other quietly as they left together, and Ignatz approached Marianne. 

“Marianne, do you go to Leicester State?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, I do. Do you?”

Ignatz nodded. “I’m a junior. I thought I’d seen you around campus before. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too,” said Marianne. Leicester State was a large school, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that there was someone else who was like her, who needed mental health treatment off campus, but it was. She remembered Dimitri telling her that she was less alone than she thought, that she made him feel less alone too, and she felt a warmth towards Ignatz and towards everyone else in the room with her. Towards everyone who had ever been in a room like this one. They were all fellow voyagers, whether their paths crossed or not. Nobody struggled alone. 

“If you need a ride back to campus, um, I’d be glad to drive you,” Ignatz was saying. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t of course.”

Marianne was about to insist she take the train when Dr. Eisner spoke up. “Actually, Marianne, I’d like to speak with you for a moment.” 

“Oh, ok, sorry,” said Ignatz. “I’ll see you around. Bye.” He gathered his workbook into his shoulder bag and left. Marianne waved to him, and she was alone in the room with Dr. Eisner.

“I just wanted to check in about how the group felt for you,” Dr. Eisner said, as they packed up their books and pens.

“It was fine,” said Marianne. “I worried a lot before I came, but it was for nothing.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Dr. Eisner. “From what I understand, you were discharged from the psychiatric unit here yesterday?”

“Yes.” Marianne looked down, ashamed in spite of herself.  _ Goddess, I must learn to accept myself. I must not be afraid _ . 

“And you’re adjusting to life at home?” Dr. Eisner went on.

“Yes. My roommate’s been helping a lot,” Marianne added. 

“That’s good. I’m glad you have someone supportive. I don’t know if you have my card already, but here. It has my email address on it. If you’re having any trouble with the at home practice, feel free to shoot me an email.” Dr. Eisner pulled out a business card like the one Marianne had been given at the hospital. “In case it’s an emergency, I’m going to write the county crisis line number on here too.” 

“Thank you,” said Marianne, taking the card. She’d put it up on the fridge, she decided. Her safety plan already hung there, as a reminder. 

“Do you have a way to get home?” asked Dr. Eisner.

Marianne nodded. “Goodbye. See you next week.”

“See you next week, Marianne,” Dr. Eisner replied, as Marianne left the office. 

Walking down the stairs of the office building, it occurred to Marianne that she hadn’t thought about her curse once. 

* * *

On the train ride back to her apartment, Marianne opened her phone to let Hilda know she was on her way back, and a notification popped up. One new email. Marianne clicked through to the email, expecting a petition update or an account update, but with a slight hope that it was something more interesting. 

Her hope was answered. The email came from an address she’d first seen the previous day, dimablaiddyd62. The subject line read “hello, an update.” Smiling, Marianne clicked through to read it.

> “Hi Marianne,
> 
> I hope you’re doing well. Things have been going smoothly for me. I got back to Fhirdiad with Rodrigue last night, and have been settling in at his house. I just got back from my first day of intensive outpatient. Still, I’ve been hoping you’re doing well with everything and that you’re having an easy transition home. Don’t worry about responding right away; I just wanted you to know I’m ok. 
> 
> Thank you for everything.
> 
> Dimitri”

Marianne read the email again and held her phone tightly in her hands. She’d respond later tonight, ask him about everything that had happened, reassure him that she was doing well. They were both travelling forward now, along their own paths, but that didn’t mean they had to part forever. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of Voyagers. Thank you all so much for reading, and I'm so grateful for all the support.


End file.
